Chuck vs The Blue Bloods
by Whiskeyflips
Summary: US police commissioners of several American cities are targeted for assassination by an unknown, but very powerful and brazen enemy. The CIA enlists the help of the since-retired Intersect, Chuck Bartowski and team as an asset to help the NYPD thwart any further attempts, discover the identity of the assailants, and bring them to justice.
1. Prologue 2009

**Chuck vs the Blue Bloods**

**A/N:**_The concept here might sound a little crazy, but a recent news story that broke in February germinated the seed of an idea of the casts of two of my favorite shows collaborating. __Chuck __and __Blue Bloods __are different types of shows, yes ... but I think they have enough in common to hold them together for an adventure._

**_What you Need to Know About _****_Chuck:_**_A bit of a sci-fi fantasy combined with self-aware spy genre spoof,__Chuck __is about a normal guy (Chuck Bartowski) who accidentally gets all the secrets of the US government (a program called The Intersect) zapped into his head, prompting the US government to assign two action-hero(ine) characters (Sarah Walker and John Casey) to defend him from the loads and loads of bad guys that would love to get their grubby mitts on Chuck and his brain. Chuck's Intersect also provides an early warning of sorts on the presence of bad guys, -usually while they're unsuspecting -and allowing our heroes to thwart the baddie's nefarious misdeeds. The very lovely Sarah poses as Chuck's girlfriend, so the outside world doesn't question their constant communications with each other at all hours, including "dates" that are actually missions. Chuck begins the show with practically no action genre survival skills whatsoever, relying on Sarah and Casey to be his bodyguards. Interestingly, and endearingly, as Sarah and Casey educate Chuck on the hard lessons needed to survive in the spy world, Chuck and his loving family (initially unaware of his new role in national security) begin to indoctrinate Sarah and Casey on the joys of normal life, and what it's like to have a strong supportive family and friends, drastically changing the outlooks on life of the two hard-bitten government agents. Chuck's family, most importantly his elder sister Ellie, and her boyfriend-fiance-husband Devon become good friends, and influential people to the former lone wolves that were Sarah and Casey._

_From the very start, Chuck and Sarah inexorably fall for each other for real, are finally exclusive with each other in Season 3, engaged at the middle of Season 4, married at the end of Season 4._

_Chuck __began in 2007, and finished in 2012, after five seasons._

_**What you Need to Know About **__**Blue **__**Bloods: **__The Reagan family (presumably no relation to the 40th president) is synonymous with law enforcement in New York City. Frank Reagan is the NYPD Police Commissioner, a career cop, a 9/11 first respond-er, widowed father of four, and grandfather of three. His family includes his own father, Henry, himself a former police commissioner from the "good old days". He has four children, one of whom is killed before the action of the show begins, and so whom is never seen. Ex-Marine Danny Reagan is the eldest, an NYPD homicide cop, who is married with two kids. Erin comes next, a fairly newly divorced single mother and an assistant district attorney in Manhattan. The fallen Joseph was next, and Jamie is the youngest, who was not initially supposed to be a cop, but a lawyer. Something changes his mind on career paths around the time Joseph dies, making Jamie probably the only Harvard educated rookie cop in the NYPD._

_Blue Bloods __began in 2010, and as of early 2014, just got renewed for a 5th season._

_The shows occupy two different genres, but are both unashamedly idealistic about the joys and strengths to be found in family and close friends. Both are also big on calls to duty, even in the faces of physical dangers, challenges from authorities, betrayals by comrades, threats to loved ones, and losses of family and friends._

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_"_Grandma always said a family is held together by its secrets." - - - Detective Danny Reagan

"You didn't go far enough, Chuck! Sarah is special. I know it. You know it. And if you love her and if she's the one, then you don't stop, you don't quit. You never go too far. You are a Bartowski, Chuck. Start acting like one. - - - Ellie Bartowski-Woodcomb

"Family is what makes us strong" - - - - Commissioner Frank Reagan

"You know my father taught me a lot of things. … Like looks can be deceiving. … Fight for your family. … And of course, never use a gun unless you absolutely have too." - - - Chuck Bartowski

"Is there any aspect of public service you Reagans aren't involved in?"

"Politics. Too many crooks in that." - Detectives Kate Lansing and Danny Reagan

"I think we need to support Chuck. This is his family, and it's my family too now." - - - Sarah Walker Bartowski

"Saw my first dead body last night. Of course Danny had to be the one to show it to me."  
" If you were twelve he would have made you kiss it" - - - Officer Jamie Reagan and ADA Erin Regan-Boyle

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**Chuck vs The Blue Bloods**

**Prologue May 2009**

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**Burbank, California**

**Servants of the Prince of Peace Chapel**

Eleanor Faye Bartowski stepped into her wedding dress with an odd, comfortable mixture of anticipation and resignation. The dress was perfect, the day was perfect, and her groom Devon was … _Awesome_, she thought with delight. Her newly re-discovered father would be there to give her away, and her wonderful brother who found him would be there with his exquisite date, Sarah – the woman who was clearly inspiring Chuck to do bigger and better things with his hitherto fore mellow, laid back life.

Ellie heaved a sigh as she took in the bridal chamber of the chapel. Of course, no wedding was without compromise and hers was no exception. The fact that they were having a big wedding at all was a concession on her part; she'd have much preferred a quick, simple ceremony on the beach. But her soon to be in-laws were big advocates of a traditional ceremony, and she was learning that her Devon's mother, Honey was a woman used to getting her way. So it was with some resignation that she had to admit that much of this day was Honey's as well as her own.

But location didn't matter. At the end of this day she was going to be married to Devon Woodcomb, the man of her dreams, and she'd happily have this wedding in the sixth level of hell for this to happen, so long as Chuck, Sarah and her father Steven were there to share it with her.

Sarah would be here soon …. Ellie allowed a mischievous smile to part her lips, as she secretly hoped that she had kept Chuck sleeping in late this morning. While they waited, her other three bridesmaids, Cynthia, Kimberly and Justine relaxed a bit. Kimberly was behind her, zipping up her dress.

"You look just gorgeous" Kimberly fawned with delight. Kimberly was one of the ER nurses at Westlake, and had become fast friends with Ellie as soon as she had started to work there.

"Thanks Kim- so do you. You know, I think one of Devon's brothers is single."

"Nice. What's the scouting report on him? Is he a sweetie pie like Devon?"

"I honestly don't know very well. I can count on one hand the times I've even been in the same room with either of them."

Honey Woodcomb, who had been overhearing, came whirling in, a blonde and pink tornado of excitement – and control. "Both Woodrow Jr and Arthur are perfect gentleman, but they live back east, and I'll not have any of you West Coast vixens tempting them to move out here. I've lost one to the allure of Earthquake Land, and that's quite enough." Turning to Ellie, and not noticing that she'd vaguely insulted all four California girls present, Honey asked "Any word on when your brother and the blonde are getting here?"

"No, Honey, sorry – but Chuck and Sarah will be here, don't worry." Ellie said, patiently.

"I'll make sure I have Woody keep an eye out," and with that, Honey was gone.

Cynthia, a classmate of Ellie's from medical school shook her head in sympathy. "Ellie, Devon's a great guy, and nothing should give you a second thought about marrying him, but I wouldn't want _that_ for a mother-in-law."

"Good with the bad, Cindy. Good with the bad." Ellie grinned. Examining herself in the mirror and satisfying herself for the moment, Ellie sighed and made her way to the other end of the bridal chamber. Justine, somewhere in the last two minutes had suddenly become a statue of silent concern as she viewed the small TV that was at this end of the room.

Ellie allowed dismayed sympathy to cloud her features as she saw what was on the TV screen. Justine was watching the news, and the story was obvious. It could only be one thing that they were watching, as a long line of police motorcycles and cars were visible on the news report. They moved slowly and all the vehicles with police markings had their emergency lights on. A glossy black hearse led the procession, followed by two black stretch limousines, and a black sports utility vehicle. The SUV was clearly a police vehicle, as special emergency lights were embedded in the grill of the otherwise civilian-looking car. Other camera shots panned over the seemingly endless procession of police vehicles make their way into a cemetery. The very bottom of the screen held the news banner: _**NYPD PC's son laid to rest - Detective Joseph Reagan -3**__**rd**__** NYPD line of duty death of 2009.**_

Justine was another one of Ellie's favorite nurses, and another one drawn to Ellie's happy and attractive personality. It was immediately clear to Ellie why this particular news story was so concerning to her. Scott, Justine's serious boyfriend and date for today was a 3 year veteran of the LA County Sheriff's office. It made no difference that this was news footage from the other side of the country – any disaster that befell a police officer or firefighter _anywhere_ twisted the hearts of emergency types and their loved ones _everywhere_. Ellie knew that Justine and Scott had probably never heard of this fallen cop, and yet an identical catastrophe could befall Scott on his very next shift.

In truth, it would probably be easier for Ellie to list the number of female nurses she worked with who had _never_ dated a policeman or a fireman - emergency service people did tend to attract one another with their unique stresses and bizarre hours. Indeed, had Ellie not fallen in love with a fellow doctor, who'd be to say she herself could not have been charmed by a handsome charismatic hero-type with a badge? Some of Ellie's nurses were unashamed "badge bunnies" – a type of police and fire groupies, similar to those that favored bands. But Ellie had met Justine and Scott as a couple, and they were very much a real couple. Ellie was hopeful that the next wedding she attended would either be Justine and Scott's, if not Chuck and Sarah's.

"Scott's here today, safe and sound, right?" Ellie asked in concern for Justine.

"Oh yeah." Justine said. "We'll probably be thanking your in-laws for the open bar" she smiled.

"What's this?" the bride gestured towards the TV "What does PC mean?"

"Police Commissioner. The New York PC has two sons who are cops. One of them went through the wrong door a few days ago. So sad. Not only did this commissioner lose one of his men, it was his own son that died."

"God, that is awful." Ellie sighed as she listened to the newscast.

"_NYPD police Commissioner Frank Reagan gave a brief yet poignant eulogy over the casket of a fallen officer all too near and dear to himself. Reagan's second son, NYPD detective Joseph Conor Reagan was killed in the line of duty early Friday morning while serving a high-risk arrest warrant with his team. Two suspects were also killed during the execution of the raid. Reagan emphasized that the slain detective's sacrifice is a grief to not just one but to two 'families' as all police officers are part of a common brother and sisterhood. Commissioner Reagan further elaborated that Joseph is not only survived by his brothers Daniel and James, his sister Erin, a niece, two nephews, his grandfather Henry, … but also his family of 35,000 fellow NYPD officers, all of whom he leaves behind."_

During the newscaster's small soliloquy, silent footage and pictures passed by of the police procession into the cemetery, a still shot of the fallen cop looking very serious and handsome in his uniform and of NYPD commissioner Frank Reagan, a vibrant, handsome 50-or-60 something looking man at the lectern of a large cathedral. Although his speech was muted out for the sake of the news anchor's voice over, it was clear he was delivering it with a quiet strong dignity-that even so did nothing to mask his pain. The camera also panned over several hundred cops in uniform, and the grief stricken faces of some of the family in the front pews of the church.

"_And we are now live at the Holy Cross cemetery in Brooklyn, where the NYPD honor guard has just set up …" _the newscaster continued as the footage changed to the procession of vehicles.

Ellie sighed again. "Any chances of talking Scott into a particularly safe duty? If you need help bullying him into guarding a crosswalk or something let me know, I have years' experience of pushing around a little brother to get what I want." Ellie offered with a helpful grin.

Justine laughed a little, and opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, Honey arrived again, looking with some dismay at the news report. "Now, now ladies. A fallen policeman is very very sad, but we don't want to let it mess up our special day today, do we? Especially when we can't do very much about it here. Come come, Ellie, let's check your make up again. The rest of you line up! Flowers, ladies!" Both bride and bridesmaids meekly followed Honey's directives.

Again Ellie stood before the full length mirror, pretending to verify that her witnessing a sad news story had not catastrophically damaged her mascara. There was a knock at the door behind her, which Honey answered, and Ellie heard a most welcome male voice from the hallway.

"Hi, can I talk to my sister? It will only take a second."

"Oh, no Chuck! It's bad luck to see the bride before …"

Truly annoyed now, Ellie called back "It's fine, I don't believe in that stuff!"

"Okay fine, just get in, get in!" she could hear Honey hiss.

Ellie arched her back and beamed. Only two men in her life had any claim to her heart, although in very different ways of course. The first one she was marrying in an hour. The second one she had known her whole life since her parents had brought him from the hospital – the boy she had taught to tell time and use a VCR player, her wonderfully sweet and kind hearted … if somewhat directionless at times… brother Chuck.

Chuck stared at his big sister, resplendent in her white dress, truly at a loss for words. She demanded some sort of verbiage "What?" she asked with a smile.

"Look at you," he said with a wistful sigh. "Your dreams are coming true"

Ellie corrected him. "If it were up to me, I'd have a small ceremony on the beach, sand between my toes, people I love, but … we all have to make sacrifices for family, right?"

"One, two, three …" Honey began inspecting the bridesmaids, and suddenly found herself 25% short. "Where the hell is my blonde?" she snarled over the absent Sarah Walker.

"Anyway, I don't know yet what I'm going to get you for a wedding present, but I'll start with this: I quit the Buy More today."

Ellie's eyes widened in surprise and delight. Chuck had always been meant for bigger things than he was currently doing, and she had been trying to coax him to expand his horizons past the Nerd Herd desk for a year or more. She whirled with glee "What!?" and her smile now lit up the room, brilliant even for a bride.

"The Buy More … is _no_ more." Chuck said with warm certainty.

"Oh, Chuck! That is … that's just incredible!" Sarah cooed with delight. "What are you going to do with your future?"

"I don't know!" Chuck said, enjoying the freedom.

"Oh, there she is!" Honey groaned with relief behind them. Brother and sister whirled around to view the newcomer. Honey's missing blonde, Sarah Walker apologetically crept into the bridal chamber, before being immediately ushered into line by Honey. The athletic and gorgeous Sarah was easily the tallest woman there, and her golden tresses fell just below her shoulders. In fact Ellie had given Sarah an out this morning for the bridesmaids hair appointments, believing that her brother's girlfriend looked better with her hair down, and knowing that Chuck preferred it that way too. Honey had been annoyed at this, of course but all Ellie had to do was to convince the golden haired Honey that blonde looks better free and down, and the sideways appeal to Honey's own vanity had had its effect.

"I made my dreams come true, Chuck. What are you going to do about yours" Ellie prompted. Sarah had been so good for Chuck these last two years, and Ellie credited her with inspiring Chuck to do greater things with his life.

She towered over Kimberly, Cynthia and Justine, and that was possibly the reason why she looked a little awkward and shy in her slinky pink bridesmaid dress. She gave Chuck an uncomfortable glance, as if she felt self-conscious with all these strangers, or if she were sitting on an unpleasant piece of news.

Chuck seemed not to quite notice—or perhaps he just dismissed it as Sarah not being the bridesmaid type of woman. Ellie watched him stride over to his girlfriend, and ask if he could have a word with her. The two of them quickly went outside.

Justine shook her head as the couple left. "Ellie, your brother's a sweetie pie, he really is. But I'm still surprised he landed _that_ one."

Ellie opened her mouth to defend her brother, but was herself interrupted by Kimberly. "Oh, I'm not. Chuck can be a charmer on his good days. I'm guessing Sarah met him on a good day."

"Pretty much." Ellie reinforced "I guess so. Her phone was broken and he fixed it for her. Chuck's probably like a lot of guys – they look good when they're doing something they know how to do. You just caught him on a bad day, Justine. In fact, his birthday party was just about a day or two before they met."

"You're sure they're a strong couple right?" Kimberly verified. "I mean Chuck's off-limits?"

Ellie's kind glance became tinged with menace. "Kimberly, Chuck and Sarah are going to go the distance, and you are _not_ going to distract my brother. He is 100% completely off limits. Clear?"

"Oh, heard! Totally!" Kimberly held up her flowers in innocence. "I don't poach. You just told me they were on the outs a few months ago, and I was just wondering where they'd gone with that."

"Well they just went away together for a few days, so I'll bet they're pretty strong." Ellie affirmed. "Out of bounds, Kimberly".

Sarah came back within short order, a sweet smile on her face. She came over to Ellie and pecked her cheek. "Chuck was right – you look wonderful. Devon's going to be so happy. And Chuck does indeed have the rings."

Ellie sighed, and beamed at who she by now presumed would eventually be her sister-in-law. The day was hers, and was going so wonderfully. The small core of her family, her and Chuck had always included Devon through these last few years, and today was about making that official. Chuck had miraculously found her long lost dad, through hacking or info gathering, or whatever voodoo her tech support nerd brother did, and things seemed to be going swimmingly with he and Sarah. After so many years of loneliness of just her and Chuck, her family seemed to be growing threefold in the space of just a few days. She had never felt anything quite so beautiful.

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**New York City, New York**

**Borough of Brooklyn, **

**Holy Cross Cemetery**

As one family gleefully anticipated the joys of a wedding and the merging and growing of the families that it promised, another family 3000 miles away tried to come to terms with the fact that their own had recently and violently shrunk.

Erin Reagan-Boyle sat in one of the rear seats of the first limousine, her eyes red, but relatively dry, considering the loss of her brother. She was simply at the point where she had cried herself out. Thankfully Danny, Linda and their kids Sean and Jack were in the second limo, meaning that the only "child" she needed to stay strong for was her far-older-than-her 13 years daughter Nicky, who occupied the seat next to her, mute in misery at the loss of her loving Uncle Joe.

Across the compartment, in the couch seat facing them sat Jamie and Sydney, their left hands clasped together, and the engagement ring that Jamie had only given her a month ago sparkling on her finger. Erin's brother Jamie was naturally pale of complexion, but today he looked absolutely as white as a ghost, his face a mask of grief, anger … and something else uncomfortable, Erin couldn't guess what.

There never was – and there never could be- a "good" time to say goodbye to a beloved family member like Joe. And yet the timing of his death made it all the more obscene. Spring of 2009 was becoming so happy a time. Erin and Nicky were beginning to bond over the first boy to ask Nicky to the 7th grade dance. Jamie and Sydney had just graduated Harvard Law together, passed the bar together, and gotten engaged … their wedding plans taking a back seat as they were both being aggressively courted by firms in New York, Philadelphia, Boston and Houston. Danny had gotten his promotion from the Narcotics division to Homicide. Things had generally been coming up roses for the Reagan family … until that phone call at 4:15 in the morning earlier this week, the timing of which precluded it being anything good.

Unsettled by the quiet, Sydney made a little small talk. "I suppose that Angela will meet us there."

Nicky responded. "I saw her car earlier. Her parents flew down from Portland. They're about six cars back."

"I like Angela. She was good for Joe." Jamie choked out. "Were we wrong not to invite her to ride with us?"

With uncharacteristically cool confidence, Nicky responded. "Angela and Joe were just dating. They weren't engaged." She then paused, worried that she sounded needlessly cold and inconsiderate. "I don't mean to be rude about her… it's just that… she's not family. At least not the way you're going to be, Sydney." She added with a sad smile. Sydney took in the smile and responded with one of her own.

Erin watched in some consideration. She and her daughter had always had a good relationship, although often rife with mother-daughter issues. Nicky however, positively worshiped the males in her family, from her great granddad, to her granddad … to her philandering, irresponsible, estranged father – _okay, no points for character judgment on that one_ – To her loving and doting uncles Danny, Joe, and Jamie. Erin didn't blame her, and treasured her brothers' roles in Nicky's life. Nicky was little when Danny and Linda had gotten married, and so Nicky had always known Linda as Danny's wife. Sydney had also been a part of Jamie's life for a long time, and so Nicky had slowly accepted her as well. But Nicky had always been slow to accept new women in Joe's life. Her uncle was not quite a ladies man … but he had just been taking his time to settle down, and in Angela, Nicky continued to see an outsider.

Sydney clasped Jamie's hand, and rested her head on Jamie's shoulder. "She's really going to miss him, though."

**Xxx xxx xxx xxx**

In the next car, Linda Reagan worked hard at containing her own grief and to keep a dry eye, which was quite a challenge with her two sons. Seeing her strong-ready-for-anything husband Danny reduced to helplessness and grief was awful enough, but the pain her two sons were going through was just as heart-rending. Jack was keeping things together pretty well, but Sean was a bit of a talkative mess, his emotions waffling back and forth between grief, pain, anger, and even hatred for the horrible men who had done this to the family. Joe Reagan had always been the life of all the birthdays and Christmas mornings he could remember, and the void he was feeling was as real, if not as large, as anyone else's in the car. Oddly, all of Sean's emotions mirrored her own; they just weren't restrained by any kind of discipline.

"Sean, Uncle Joe wouldn't have wanted you to say you hate the drug dealers. Uncle Joe didn't hate anyone." Danny Reagan quietly admonished his youngest. It was the most natural thing in the world for a father to say, who didn't want to see an ugly emotion like hatred spawn in his son's heart. It was also more than a little ironic, as Danny often let his anger feed him when he worked a case.

"Except for Dolphins fans. He hated _them_" Jack tried to wisecrack, while looking at Sean. Such levity would have typically earned him a cuff from either Linda or Danny, or perhaps even Henry, who was sitting next to him, but all could see that he was trying to tame his younger brother's moods. It actually worked, and Sean chuckled.

"Remember when he took us to that Jets game last year?" Sean suddenly remembered.

"Yeah!" Jack smiled. "He taught us _everything_ about football"

"Yeah. Yeah." Danny joined in. "He was always the football expert in the family. Baseball was more my thing. Also, you two need to get Uncle Jamie to teach you about chess. Jamie's good at it, Joe was too. I… kinda suck."

"It's because you're a Marine, honey, and you still don't get why the king can only move one square, instead of kicking butt like the rest of the pieces." Linda said with a soft smile.

"Seriously, he's the most important piece on the board, and he fights like one of the itty-bitty pawns. What is that?" Danny complained.

"Hey", Henry interrupted. "I'm a Marine, and I like chess. And the king only moves around a little bit because he delegates." He reached over and gave Sean a noogie. "but you're dad's right. It'll be up to Uncle Jamie to teach you all about chess now."

"You know pops," Linda switched topics. "You and Danny really look good in your uniforms. It's a crying shame that things like this are the only occasions you get to wear them anymore."

"Dirty shame" Henry agreed. "It's funny. When you first become a cop, you love to put the uniform on every day. Then when you make detective or PC, you only get to wear them for things like this that are officious and pompous at best, and horrible at worst. And as for you two," he gestured to his great-grandsons "When we get out of here you're going to see more cops than you've ever seen in one place in your lives. Just remember that they're all here because of what a great uncle you guys had. And he loved you very much. And whatever you do, don't worry about the druggies that did this. They're having their own conversations with God right now. "

**Xxx xxx xxx xxx**

From the third car of the procession, a large black Ford Expedition, Deputy Commissioner for Public Information Garrett Moore sat in the rear driver's side seat. Practicality insisted that the somewhat smaller Detective Abigail Baker take the passenger side, as she fit better in the back when Commissioner Frank Reagan rode shotgun.

Reagan had his head bowed, and Garret could see that New York's top cop was having his own private conversation with the Almighty. Now then, was the time for silence and respect.

Like the commissioner himself, Garrett was never truly off duty, and rarely wasted a minute of time. And this time trapped in the command SUV was wasted time. Oh, the _funeral_ of Reagan's fallen son, a hero of the NYPD was very much a required and solemn occasion, and Garrett hadn't even a slight complaint about attending. Garrett was as appreciative of the ceremony at Saint Patrick's and the bagpipes and the firing squad and the bugler as anyone else. It was taking part in the long, drawn out procession that annoyed him. And when the commissioner was in prayer, it wasn't the time for meaningful communication.

With nothing else to do, Garrett decided to do his job – collect relevant news and information. He withdrew his iPhone, and called up his favorite news site.

A moment later, Abigail heard a very soft "Hmmm?" from Garret. As she turned her blonde head to see what had gotten Garrett's attention, Garret cast a downward glance, embarrassed to have been caught sneaking work in the car. The detective arched an inquisitive eyebrow.

Wordlessly, Garret passed her his iPhone so she could read the news story. After a moment, her own bewildered and confused look mirrored Garret's. Silently, she mouthed the words "Meth lab?" to the Deputy Commissioner. Her expression betrayed a sense of incredulity.

Garret simply shrugged, as no further details were present yet.

"Something good?" Came the voice from the passenger seat. Frank Reagan had obviously detected the silent back-and-forth going on behind him, despite their attempts at stealth. Both Garrett and Abigail grimaced, as both had been eager to let the grieving father alone with his thoughts at the moment.

"Nothing that really needs your attention, commissioner. Not really on any day, and certainly not today. Just weird story out of California." Garret temporized.

"You know I love hearing about how weird California is. And I could use a chuckle today, so let's have it." Frank said without looking back.

"Well I wouldn't call it funny, but since foolish criminals are always good for a laugh, why not?" Garrett said. "Apparently there's this old abandoned drive in movie theater out in Barstow, the Starbright. It hasn't been used for years… at least not as a movie theater. Apparently some methamphetamine cooks decided that the series of access tunnels underneath it with no ventilation looked like a great place to do business."

"Ugh." Reagan groaned. "Let me guess. Everyone got overcome by the fumes"

"Good theory. Now imagine your theory was directed by Michael Bay. They blew themselves and the whole complex sky high. Investigators are saying that it looks like someone carpet bombed the place." At the odd absurdity of it, Garrett couldn't help a soft grin. Dumb criminals produced their own type of gallows humor. If nothing else, it sometimes made police work a bit easier.

"Any civilian casualties?" Frank asked.

"Um, no. Apparently this place is out in the middle of nowhere, even by Barstow standards. Nobody hurt but the bad guys."

There was a somewhat awkward period of silence, which Frank broke after a moment. "Well you're right Garrett. It's not funny. But it is weird."

The SUV became silent again as brake lights appeared on the hearse and two limousines in front of them. The procession had arrived at Joe's final resting place.

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**A/N: **_Chuck fans may recognize the first scene as an extension of a canonical scene in the season 2 finale "Chuck vs. The Ring", which aired in May 2009. The news story that Garret reads happened in the episode before, "Chuck vs. The Colonel"_

_As noted before, Blue Bloods was not yet on the air, but Joe Reagan's death is canonically shown (via his tombstone) to have been May of 2009. For most of the first season, the Reagan family continues to labor under the illusion that Joe was murdered by drug dealers fleeing a warrant - it is revealed not to be the case. Joe was actually murdered by a cabal of corrupt cops known as the Blue Templar ... a treacherous sub organization in the NYPD ... which when you think of it, is not a million miles removed in spirit from Fulcrum in Chuck Season 2._

_More to come, of course. be patient._


	2. Prologue 2010

**Prologue Mid-June 2010**

_**A/N:**__**Chuck**__ If you're reading this, it means that I weighed the likelihood of this chapter contributing to the story vs the likelihood of this chapter being distracting and running on too long, …and decided to keep the chapter. I had to avoid the temptation to make this chapter too long, as the concept of Sarah and Ellie's first major discussion after Ellie's finding out that Chuck, Sarah and Casey are spies is a dangerously, distractingly rich vein to explore. The concept will surely fuel a few of my independent one-offs. The show was curiously mum on the topic, as Ellie learns that Chuck's a spy at the end of Season 3, but doesn't learn how or why (or about the Intersect) until the end of Season 4. How a smart cookie like Ellie neglected to ask Chuck all the relevant questions is never addressed. Neither is the question of how it affected the two women's relationship in the short term. Eventually, they become as close as ever, but there's no way this was an easy few weeks after Season 3 for Sarah and Ellie. _

_Both women are heroines who are fanatically loving and defensive of Chuck, and each one has reason to see the other as a threat. Ellie has every right to see Sarah as deceitful and dangerous, and thus unsafe for her brother to be around, and Sarah has every right to see Ellie as the one person who could sabotage her and Chuck's relationship (the most important thing in her life, at this point), as Ellie is the only person who Chuck worships as much as he does her. Shame on the writers for denying us a scene where these two powerful, intelligent, loving women square off against each other!_

_And speaking of strong women …_

_**A/N: **__**Blue Bloods**__ The doomed Sydney/Jamie romance that arcs over the first 8 episodes of Blue Bloods is a tragically honest one. Neither character commits any major romantic sin, there is no cheating, no lying, no abuse, no insults, nothing that obviously says that they're better off without each other. It's very clear from the first few episodes of the show that, despite the fact that she fell in love with a soon-to-be lawyer, and is now in love with a rookie patrolman, Sydney has every honest intention of being a supportive policeman's fiancée, and she puts in the effort. She's bursting with pride at Jamie's academy graduation. She leans on Linda for advice on how to cope with the horror when a cop is killed. And yet the worrying about Jamie gets to her. So too does the thrall that Jamie's new job has over him, as it and his mission to investigate the Blue Templar push the time he has for her off to the side. Her patience gone, she leaves him after he takes one risk too many. It's very sad to watch, because there are no bad guys here. Jamie is simply very well suited to being a cop. Sydney is simply not very well suited to being a cop's wife. _

_The NYPD police academy, like many police academies is six months. I don't know when Blue Bloods is supposed to begin. The first episode (which includes Jamie's graduation) aired on 9/24/2010. But all the women are wearing overcoats outside, and Sydney even has a scarf. That is NOT a September afternoon in New York City, not even a rainy one! Subsequent episodes DO, however seem to take place at a time roughly congruent to their calendar spot. Two episodes later "Privilege" clearly takes place on a hot day during the academic year (so, September). Whatever, by June in this story, Jamie's part way through the NYPD academy._

_Enjoy! And don't forget to review!_

**Prologue Mid-June 2010**

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**Los Angeles, California**

**Westside Medical Center****  
**

Devon and Ellie always found the first day back at work after a vacation the hardest. Today, Ellie at least was learning that the inverse was also true. It was just as hard to get back into the swing of things after an unspeakable tragedy. Her father had not been the perfect father – in many ways he might not even be eligible to be described as a "good" father... but he was undoubtedly a kind hearted and loving man, brutally murdered in front of her brother's and her own eyes, for reasons that she was only now just beginning to understand, and was doubting she'd ever fully comprehend.

It was five hours into her twelve hour shift, and luckily for the world-at-large, it was a quiet morning at Westlake – one elderly lady was admitted after falling down the steps and breaking her arm. It was good for her that it wasn't her hip. A relatively minor car accident on the 5 caused a huge mess, but only resulted in a broken leg admission at Westlake. Then a four year old somewhere took a swig of his mother's glass cleaner, and the panicking mother packed him off to the ER to get his stomach pumped.

There was, however, a downside for this quietude, at least there was for Ellie—not having to immerse herself into many serious emergency crises meant that she spent a lot of her time daydreaming about stringing up one Agent Sarah Walker by her thumbs.

Ellie couldn't remember ever feeling so perfectly conned, so entirely fooled, so completely betrayed. Two and a half years ago, the very pretty blonde woman had walked into her brother's store, and flirted with her goofy, but undeniably kind hearted, funny and charming brother. She and Chuck started dating. Sarah got along so well with Ellie, with Devon … she was even better at tolerating Morgan Grimes than Ellie was. Sarah fit right in at birthday dinners, Christmas, Thanksgiving, Halloween parties. She had never seen Chuck so happy in his romantic life … so devastated when they had broken up for a few months. Ellie had never had a sister of her own, and although she had never wanted for girlfriends, she had been rapidly promoting Sarah up her chain of close friends.

_And now to find out that it was all a lie!_ Sarah Walker was an agent of the CIA! Her relationship with Chuck was a complete con-job. Not only that but now Chuck was now a CIA agent as well! What sort of sociopath could so convincingly pull off having feelings for someone for so long while all the time simply using him?

Her baby brother had always been vulnerable to the smiles of pretty girls, and the idea of some manipulative witch taking advantage of Chuck's good nature – particularly when he was smitten-had always aroused Ellie's inner lioness. It had been that way since he was in fifth grade, and Ellie warned him that Meredith Cutler was only using him for help on her science fair project, and wouldn't have any time for him after it was done. Later, something about Jill Roberts had set off alarm bells in her head towards the end of Jill and Chuck's relationship, as if Jill was hiding something from Chuck, and she wouldn't tell what.

And now, Sarah Walker, the woman for whom she watched her brother take his hardest fall ever – was actually a government agent. The whole concept was too perverse to wrap her head around. Sarah Walker might have be an expert in Krav Maga, Jujitsu, kung fu, Kempo Karate and a few dozen other martial arts that she can't even name, but still Ellie knew she'd have to fight the temptation to slap Sarah Walker across the chops the next time she saw her.

Ellie's vibrating cell phone warned her that that moment might be all too soon. Drawing the iPhone from her scrubs, Ellie saw a text from Devon.

_**Hey babe. Wanted to know how you were feeling. **_

_**Also, Sarah was just here. She plans on surprising you with lunch. I told her your favorite. Be nice to her .I'll be in by 1.**_

If her wonderful husband Devon had a flaw, it was the flaw he shared with Chuck. He always searched for, and normally found the good in people. But Devon's intercessions weren't going to be enough to spare her brother's girlfriend a grilling. If Sarah Walker thought a buffalo chicken foot long from Subway was going to get her out of giving her some direct answers to her tough questions, she had another think coming.

Ellie made her way to the nurse's station at the ER. Justine and Kimberly were doing paperwork, Justine with her iPhone programmed to a police radio scanner application.

"Scott working today?," Ellie asked.

"Yep, he and Steve are doing a 7 to7." Justine said. "He told me what their radio codes meant a few nights ago, but it just seems like a lot of policeman babble right now."

"I'll bet." Ellie grinned. "Of course if he had to listen to half of the medicines that come out of our mouths, he'd probably get lost too."

"Probably." Justine said with her own smile. "The poisoning in three is hoping for a release today."

"Well his mom's going to be a little disappointed." Ellie said, searching for the right chart. "I'm going to talk with his mom, then I'll do lunch."

It took upwards of a half hour to explain to the child's mother that she had to keep the window-cleaner curious kid in for an overnight. Ellie left hoping that the kid learned an important lesson -that Windex may look delicious, but really is not, and that the mother might consider investing in some Mr. Yuk stickers.

Ellie finished and returned to the nurses' station, and as she arrived, stopped a little short. Sarah had gotten there, armed with two plastic bags that smelled delicious. She greeted Ellie with a somewhat shy, but friendly smile. "Hey, Ellie."

Ellie had been sure she'd be angry at the sight of Sarah, but for some reason, Sarah's affability meshed with her for the millionth time. Intellectually, she cautioned herself that her affability could – probably was- an act … but emotionally, she decided right now that something about her _had_ to be genuine. Reluctantly, she had to admit that as much as she chastised Chuck and Devon's naiveté, she too was ultimately trusting.

"Subway," Ellie said cautiously, but with a small grin. "Someone's trying to get on my good side".

"Actually no" Sarah said, holding up the bags. "Lou's Deli. It's another shop right by the Buy More. What's left of the Buy More, anyway. "

"Cafeteria's on the second floor. I'll be there in just a minute." Ellie said.

After doffing her white coat in her locker, and changing into another pair of scrubs, Ellie found Sarah waiting for her in the hospital's cafeteria. Although the place was fairly crowded, Sarah had managed to find a table that was far from the crowd, on the edge of the floor plan.

Both women sat in silence for a little bit, before Sarah started. "Ellie, a lot of what happened … a lot of the details about how I met Chuck are very seriously classified, so there are some things that I honestly can't talk about. And I won't. But if you want to know anything else, I'll tell you. As long as it doesn't push up against things I just can't talk about."

"Ok." Ellie said, keeping a tight grip on her calm. "Normally I'd say start at the beginning. But I don't want to do that. I want to know about the most important thing first. How do you feel towards my brother? Because he has been absolutely crazy about you ever since he's met you. And if you're just treating him like a former spy or a former asset, then you and I are _never_ going to be friends."

At that, Sarah smiled a little, but her blue eyes conveyed the absolute seriousness of what she was saying. "Ellie, I am 100%, totally, crazily, and madly in love with Chuck. I've never felt this way about anyone before. I've never had a man in my life like him before. I want to make things work with him so badly. You might think I'm this heartless, cruel person who used him … and you're right in thinking that he was _supposed_ to be just a job to me –but right away he became so much more than that. If I had to choose between being a spy and being with Chuck, I'll choose Chuck in a heartbeat. In fact I've made that choice three times in the last year – I've been lucky that I haven't ended in jail over it. But those are long stories."

Ellie wasn't impressed yet. "Okay. How? Why? Why are you so crazy about him? Why isn't he 'just a job' to you? I assumed you've lied to men and their families before about your intentions, what makes Chuck so lucky?"

Sarah sat back in her chair for just a little, not offended, but careful about how to answer. Ellie was clearly way out of her comfort zone in giving her a chance to explain herself. It was her one and only shot to salvage her relationship with Ellie, whom she had come to admire almost as much as she had come to love Chuck. Life with Chuck carried with it the allure of a caring family, a caring Ellie and Devon. It was literally something Sarah Walker had never had available to her before, and she wanted it very badly.

"Okay," Sarah said. "Maybe it's time to start at the beginning now. Three years ago, the CIA learned that a huge amount of government secrets were sent to this guy we had never heard of, Chuck Bartowski. These secrets were very dangerous, and _could not_ … and _still_ cannot be allowed to fall into the hands of our enemies. Now I want you to put yourself in my bosses' shoes for a minute, and try to imagine what their first impression of Chuck was, knowing only that he was this guy who had just gotten a bunch of secrets sent to him."

Ellie looked at her a little confused.

Sarah elaborated "Think of it like a hospital. Pretend if you found out that somebody had stolen a bunch of Percocet, or OxyContin or some other drug. The police catch the guy who stole it – but find out that he sent the stolen drugs to this apartment in Washington DC. What would you immediately suspect about whoever owned that apartment?"

"Ok. I guess I'd assume that whoever owned the apartment was in on the whole thing. Like he was a drug supplier or something." Ellie said.

"Exactly!" Sarah said. "We had no idea who Chuck was, and everybody thought the worst. So they sent me in to make contact. To go into the Buy More and flirt with him a little, and find out what if anything he knows".

Ellie shook her head in disgust "So the CIA sicced a supermodel field agent on my brother the has-a-hard-time-talking-to-pretty-girls computer nerd, to pretend to like him to get him to talk. That's still probably the most disgusting plan I've ever heard of."

Sarah nodded, slightly embarrassed, yet standing her ground. "Yeah. It's kind of gross. But remember – everyone thought Chuck was the bad guy. Ellie, every intelligence agency in the world uses men's weaknesses against them, to try to get them to volunteer information. Some guys are suckers for pretty faces, and the CIA uses that to their advantage. Hell, forget the CIA, most police departments do that too, sending women undercover at bars to get info from waiters and bartenders, and guys who work the front desks of hotels. Sales men do the same thing, flirting to get information from secretaries about their bosses. Ellie, to a minor degree, you might even do the same thing – when you and Devon buy your first house, aren't you and Devon going to dress up really nice to go ask for the loan? And if the loan officer is a straight guy, and you catch him staring at you…maybe you'll smile back?" Sarah's eyes searched Ellie's for some acknowledgement of her point – and were quickly distracted by a peal of laughter from halfway across the room.

Ellie and Sarah turned. At the table in the middle of the cafeteria, 3 stunningly beautiful women were conversing and laughing. It was clear that they weren't doctors, or nurses as they didn't wear scrubs, and their blouses were much too expensive looking – and too tight- to be considered appropriate for anyone who worked at the hospital. Their makeup and hair were also excellent, something even a beautiful doctor like Ellie could not boast after a few hours on the ER floor. The women's generally cheerily demeanor probably ruled them out as family of any patient, too.

"Let me guess- pharmaceutical reps?" Sarah asked with a nod to the table with the three beauties.

"Yeah, McDonald-Davis Medical has a new painkiller they're trying to sell. Today is their big effort here." Ellie mentioned.

"Ever wonder why pharm reps are so good looking? I imagine you've run into a few male reps that were pretty hot." Sarah quizzed.

Ellie stayed somewhat quiet, trying to think of an answer. Even as she did, she could sense her righteous indignation diluting.

Sarah pressed, "It's almost as if the drug company that's trying to make a multi-million dollar drug sale did some research as to what gets a thirty, forty, or fifty something male doctor .. or female doctor's attention, and hired the best looking person they could find to hawk their pills."

"Ok, fine, I guess… But isn't what you do worse? I mean it's one thing to be nice and smile a little bit to get what you want from a guy, or to make the sale- but to pretend to want to be a guy's girlfriend, Sarah? To pretend to have real feelings for him? Isn't that pretty awful?"

Sarah patiently sat back in her chair again, before leaning forward to keep her voice low. "Ellie, remember, everyone thought Chuck was the bad guy at first. And if he had been, then no I don't think it would have been awful. Ellie, I've run the honeytrap before on murderers, gun runners, drug pushers, and even one man who was selling teenage girls into sex slavery. And no, I've never felt an iota of sympathy for lying to them, flirting with them, and pretending to like them. These men we're talking about … my 'victims' as you might be tempted to think of them … are all about to go to jail for a long _long_ time—and that's if they don't decide to shoot it out with me and my backups. My breaking their hearts is the least of both their problems and mine." She sighed. "But back to Chuck."

"I went into that Buy More, and just flirted a little with him, and he fixed my phone. Well, first of all he scored points with me right away by not staring at the third button of my shirt." Sarah smiled, "Then, something weird happened. This guy comes up to him with his little girl practically in tears. They just got back from a ballet recital, and apparently this clown didn't know that you needed digital tape to go into a digital camcorder. He completely ruined any chance of taping his daughter's recital, and I couldn't tell which one was closer to crying. So what your brother does is this: He gets Morgan to use the theater room, and records her dancing right then and there in the room. It was easily the sweetest thing I'd ever seen. Your brother saved the day, and this little girl was happy as a clam."

"Huh. I don't think he ever told me that story." Ellie said with a soft smile.

"Of course not. He probably doesn't think it's that big a deal. But I remember every detail about it. And then the next night he took me out to dinner, and he was a real sweetie pie. I liked him … and even before I knew what the story was, I knew that Chuck wasn't a bad guy, and that him having all these secrets wasn't his fault. And in case you're wondering, yes… I started feeling bad about flirting with him right then and there. Nice guys like your brother aren't supposed to get caught in honeytraps. I don't think I knew it at the time, but I know now that I started falling for him right then and there too. And I was, Ellie. I've gotten closer to him – let him get closer to me I've ever had happen to me before."

Ellie's anger had mollified a little bit by now, but it was still hard to reconcile herself with Sarah's ability to deceive. "Sarah, what sticks in my craw was that I totally bought you as his girlfriend for all that time. You were so good. You … you lied so well. I can't even begin to describe how stupid I feel."

Sarah winced and sighed. "Ellie, I was trained by some of the best in the business at how to maintain a cover. And that was even before I joined the CIA. My dad was a con man. _Is_ a con man. Fooling smart people – sometimes _very_ smart people - is pretty much what spies do. Now ask me how I was able to lie to you, someone I like very very much – the most important person in the life of the most important man in mine- with a clear conscience."

"Okay. How?" Ellie groused.

"Because keeping you and Devon and Morgan in the dark not only kept you safe, but kept Chuck safe. So every time we fed you guys a story about what we were doing that night… that time Chuck and I house-sat in the suburbs, the time we kept him late and we missed Mother's day dinner … no matter what happened to us, Chuck didn't have to worry about people like Fulcrum or The Ring coming after you and torturing you for information. And that's really important, Ellie. Chuck would do anything to keep you safe, and we can't have him giving missile codes to the bad guys … which he would surely do if he thought somebody was going to hurt you or Devon. So yes. Chuck and I lied. We lied for two whole years." Sarah said evenly, determined to feel neither ashamed, nor proud of these facts.

"Okay." Ellie agreed, no longer confident in her righteous indignation "I don't like it, but I think I get it. I don't think I understand your world at all. But I guess in the end you were trying to do what's best for Chuck and me and Devon. So thank you." A pause, and then a plea "Sarah, please, please tell me how you really feel about my brother. Next to him being alive and safe, I want nothing more than for him to be happy. And I know you people tell lies left and right for the greater good, but it's really scary to see my brother really fall so hard for someone who lies so well."

"Ellie …. I didn't even know what it'd be like to fall in love until I met Chuck. The only men I meet in my line of work are either criminals, or spies like me – men who are every bit as good at lying and deception as I am. Men just like that Justin character who charmed you into giving away your dad's location. I am totally new at this relationship thing … " after a self-indulgent smile "and I like it a lot."

"Wait a minute-_you've_ never had a boyfriend before?" Ellie asked incredulously. As beautiful as Sarah was, the idea was nothing short of ridiculous.

"Ellie, a relationship with a spy is no relationship at all, not the way normal people like you and Devon and Chuck define 'relationship'. Yeah, I've had a fling or two with a few guys I worked with. But nothing real. Nothing deep. I've never had to deal buying a boyfriend Christmas presents before, a boyfriend's birthday before, deal with boyfriend's protective big sister before. Never _ever_ thought about an actual future with a guy before. The closest thing I've had a boyfriend was my old partner, and even then making long-term plans with him was totally off-limits. We had no idea how long we'd be assigned together, or if we'd still be alive at the end of the next mission. So.., yeah. Chuck's really my first boyfriend."

"And you've loved him this whole time? For real?" Ellie asked. Gone from her now was any sense of anger, replaced by a certain sense of sympathy.

"Our very first date, I found myself asking why I couldn't have a real boyfriend like him. It was awful for both of us. I tried so hard to keep it professional, but it was what it was. At the CIA academy, they train you to put your emotions aside … but the fact that we were so wrong about Chuck … that_ I_ was so wrong about Chuck meant that the sweet, stubborn jerk ended up getting to me anyway."

"You said that if you had to choose between him and the CIA…" Ellie began.

"Him. In a heartbeat." Sarah cut her off. "There was a time right before your wedding when the Agency wanted to put him underground for his safekeeping. I broke the rules, stole him, and he and I ran away together to A) find your dad, and B) arrest the people who were trying to get Chuck. That was around the time Devon found out. And then right after your wedding … I tried to get him to run away with me and leave the agency behind. He decided not to and wanted to become a real spy. Things weren't good between us for a few months. But then we sort of got past it, and tried to run away together for a third time right before you and Devon went to the Congo. That didn't work out either. It turns out that for all the dangerous and unsavory things that we do, I ended up doing a lot more good for the country, and so did Chuck. We kind of let ourselves get drawn back into it."

"So how long have you and he been together for real?" Ellie wanted to know.

"April, so just a few months. That third time we tried to run away was the real time." Sarah informed.

Ellie shook her head in disbelief. "I can't believe it. It looked so real. So every time Devon and I saw you together was an act? Every kiss, every time you cuddled on the couch, every time I saw you two dance, every time you stayed over our place… wait a minute …" her eyes grew with horror "every time you had sex?"

Sarah blushed. "Um, Ellie two things. First of all, like I said, I _was_ falling for Chuck emotionally all along. So no not _always_ just an act… if you caught me looking like I enjoyed cuddling with Chuck, then I was enjoying it." She paused, not too sure how embarrassed Ellie would be to hear this about her sibling. "And second of all, Chuck and I never actually had sex until April."

At Ellie's dumbfounded expression, Sarah blushed further and apologized "I'm sorry-I'm sorry. Was that too much information? Did I cross the line? I know you probably don't want to hear about your brother ..."

Ellie was still looking at Sarah with wide eyes and an agape mouth, but shook her head. She was appalled, but not because of the detail of her and Chuck's sex life. "You mean you've been falling for a guy for two and a half years, and never dragged him off to the bedroom? Until April? What the hell's the matter with you people? I'm not sure who to feel more sorry for – Chuck or you!"

Sarah's embarrassment faded, and she started laughing. "It was rough on both of us, believe me."

"What kept you from him? Is it some sort of doctor/ patient thing? An agent's not allowed to touch her asset, no matter how cute he is?" Ellie was genuinely curious.

"Uh, no. It's actually just the opposite. Back when Chuck was just an asset, my bosses would probably have been thrilled if I slept with him. They'd think that if I did, I would make Chuck completely dependent on me, and totally devoted to doing whatever I said. I could hand out sex like a doggie treat anytime Chuck behaved, and punish him by withholding it when he didn't. "

Ellie grimaced in disgust "Oh, that's just awful. I always hated the girls in my sorority that would do that to their boyfriends" … but quickly, her eyes grew wide again, this time a smile formed. "But you didn't do that" she said.

Sarah smiled a little self-consciously and shook her head. "nope. I mean from one way of looking at it I _should_ have. It was my job to control him and get him to do whatever the Agency wanted, but…" she shrugged. "I don't think it really would of worked. Actually, scratch that. It _definitely_ wouldn't have worked. For two reasons. First of all, Chuck's a really _really_ nice and respectful guy. I think he'd be able to tell if I was just pretending to be in the mood for sex – is this too much information?"

Ellie shook her head, "Not really. We're getting close, but we're not there yet."

"Okay. And Chuck is definitely not the kind of guy who'd pressure a woman into sex. Almost as if he had a strong big sister who taught him how to respect women." She flashed a grin towards Ellie "So he'd probably be sensitive if he thought I was putting on an act for him, and then he'd want to talk about what was bothering me. So that's one way it wouldn't work."

"What's the other reason?"

Sarah blushed again "Well… the theory is that if a female agent sleeps with her male asset, it'd be to control him, and to make him dependent on her. Well, now that I've been sleeping with him for a few months I can tell you without going into details that making him beg for sex is definitely not in the cards – and that _I_ am every bit as dependent on _him_ as he is on me –maybe even more so!"

Ellie's hand flew up to her mouth as she suppressed a delighted squeal and laughed through it. It proved contagious, as Sarah started laughing too, as an embarrassing blush crept up her neck, and turned her face a deep red.

"You know, in a weird way, that's the most romantic thing I've ever heard." Ellie said as soon as she composed herself.

"Yeah", Sarah admitted. "So, yeah. We've been together since April, 100% totally for real. And when finally got together, we stayed in a French train compartment for three days straight and didn't come out."

Another boisterous burst of laughter from Ellie. "Ugh! Okay… we're coming … coming up to the line now." Ellie gasped between laughs, while making a slashing motion with her hand signaling for Sarah to stop. The two women continued to giggle and as a third party came up to their table.

"Ladies how're we doing?" Devon asked as he bent down to give Ellie a kiss on the cheek.

Sarah was regaining her composure, and said "We're good. I was just finding out the hard way about what I can and can't say about Chuck in front of your wife." Although done laughing, she still had a huge smile on her face.

"Awesome. Can't say how happy I am to see you two getting along."

"Yeah, I'd say we're pretty much better now." Ellie said through a smile. "Sounds like you have a brother-in- law who can hold his head up high amongst men. And apparently for our second honeymoon we're taking a train trip all throughout France. It sounds like the rails have some sort of aphrodisiac qualities. So ..." she smiled broader, "_three days_?"

Sarah nodded. "Yep three days." As she felt a blush appear again, she couldn't resist adding "I think the room service guys where glad to see us leave." Ellie was laughing again, as Sarah continued "Probably housekeeping as well." Ellie's hand was again to her mouth, shaking a little in her chair. Sarah was delighted to see her so pleased.

"I hope…" Ellie began as she tried to catch her breath "… I hope that the bed … survived at least", she laughed again as Sarah joined in.

Sarah waited for them to both stop laughing before finishing. "Nope"

This time the laughter took much longer to fade away, but once everyone had regained their composures, Ellie went back to work … and finished the last half of her shift in much better spirits then she did the first half.

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**Ocean City, New Jersey**

Sydney Davenport had never seen a water gun battle in the surf before and there was a lively debate as to who had won. Her fiancé's older nephew Jack was saying he won. Sean was saying he won. Jamie settled the debate by tackling both his nephews into the surf, which might not have answered the question, but it did change the subject.

"Yuck! Seaweed!" Jack squealed, as is foot swiped on something icky. Jamie gave him a helping hand up, and directed the two of them back up to the array of beach blankets that marked the Reagan family beach site, perhaps 30 yards from the surf line, where Linda relaxed in a beach chair. Beside Linda, on her right side, Danny relaxed with the radio, taking in the Yankees/Sox game. As her two sons approached, she snatched their two rolled up beach towels and playfully chucked them at each, Jack catching his Superman towel in midair, but Sean dropping his Spider-Man towel into the sand, forcing him to shake it off.

Sydney mimicked the maneuver by throwing a rolled up beach towel at her own big kid/fiancé, which he deftly caught and rolled out, his being a splashy red sailboat theme. He swirled it about his shoulders, and plopped to the sand on he and Sydney's own blanket.

Linda gave her brother-in-law an appreciative glance as he sat. "Gotta say Jamie, I'm liking the new look. Police academy is treating you well."

"Hey." Danny faux-complained from her right.

"Sorry hon, you have a hot kid brother." Linda deadpanned back.

"See, sweetie?" Sydney purred. "I'm not the only one who's noticed." She leaned in to claim Jamie's lips for a kiss, which she only kept chaste for fear of scandalizing Jack and Sean. It was true. Jamie had always been somewhat athletic, keeping in shape with basketball, but the intensive weight and cardio training that had made up his first few weeks had begun to show early on. Now he was in his third month of it, and the physical training was now balanced out with an equal amount of classwork. Jamie's physical form had plateaued at a very nice place. She smiled again as she kissed Jamie once more.

"Ugh, gross. Mushy stuff." Sean growled.

"Yeah, well 'Treating me well would be a bit of a stretch'", Jamie shyly mumbled. "But I am doing pretty well at it." Sydney gave him one more peck before caressing his towel draped shoulders.

Sydney thought that the two nephews were a delight- they were much better behaved then any of the children she had babysat years ago. As such at this, her first family vacation with the whole Reagan clan, she had provided Jack and Sean with a brand new sand castle building kit set – essentially buckets shaped like castle walls, turrets, ramparts and the like. She handed them the mesh bag with a challenging look. "So, sand castle time?"

"What do you say to Sydney, boys?" Linda demanded.

"Thank you!" the two boys said in unison, as they opened up the mesh bag and began to sort things out. Jamie glanced around the moderately crowded beach, looking for an appropriate nearby site for Castle Reagan.

Just as the boys got started, four long shadows approached the construction site from the rear. Erin and Nicky, both with ice cream bowls in hand approached, and a pace or two behind them came Frank and Henry, both with two fishing rods, tackle boxes and other fishing apparatus.

Jamie looked up at his sister and niece. "You're here just in time for Project Sandcastle."

"Uh,oh… " Nicky said. "I think that grandpa and great gramps have other plans."

"That jetty over there looks mighty unoccupied." Henry informed "If I know my fish-and I do- they'll just love to hang out there where they think nobody's going to bother them. Anyone in the mood to show them different?"

Sean and Jack suddenly looked a little bit torn, stuck as they were before two equally alluring possibilities. Either they could stay here and build the most amazing sandcastle in the history of sand castles – using the new toys Sydney had gotten to boot … or they could go off with Henry and Frank, hike the point of one of the jetties that protruded from the beach, and fish until their hearts content.

"Oooooh." Henry said in mock sympathy. "decisions, decisions."

"I think your Aunt Erin and Cousin Nicky made a discovery, boys" Frank pitched in.

"Yes!" Erin exclaimed, pretending to be excited for her nephews' benefit. "They just opened up a new ice cream stand on the boardwalk, on the way to the jetty. Nicky, how many flavors did they have?"

"Oh, I saw at least twenty." Nicky smiled, and deliberately and dramatically savored a spoonful of her own chocolate chip ice cream. "Mmmmm"

"If you guys want, we could stop by and see which ice cream is the best there …" Frank offered.

And upon such factors, momentous decisions were made. Sean and Jack abandoned the Castle Reagan project, and fell in behind the two patriarchs. Sydney's sandcastle building pails were nice, but there was ice cream to be devoured and luckless fish to prey upon. The foursome of the Reagan clan were soon on their way to the jetty.

"So, what'd we miss?" Erin asked, finding a spot she liked on the third beach blanket, to the right of Danny and Linda as Nicky charged down to the shoreline for a quick dip.

"Sox are up 4-2. Them bums." Danny reported glumly.

"Well, Sydney was the boys' favorite girl in the whole wide world … for about thirty seconds." Linda reported, earning a grin from Sydney, as she and Jamie replaced the scattered sand castle building toys back into the mesh bag.

Erin looked a little hesitant. "Sooo, do you guys really have to go back tomorrow night?"

Jamie nodded regretfully. "Yeah. After the first round of exams, I actually have a decent shot of graduating in the top tier- there's a long way to go, of course, but I'm still in the running. Let's just say being late on Monday morning isn't in the cards. Sorry."

"And I'm his ride." Sydney informed.

"Shame." Linda groused a little. "Looks like no double date for couple's day."

"Oh. Yeah, hadn't thought of that." Jamie said.

"Couple's day?" Sydney wanted to know.

"Usually when we do vaycay, it's a long weekend." Linda explained. "One of those nights the couples – Danny and I take a day off and sneak up to Atlantic City for an overnight. Go dancing, drinking, gamble a little, spend the night at a nice hotel. Frank and Henry – and Mary when she was alive -kept the kids occupied with the Lighthouse Adventure."

"Yeah," Danny said with a grin. "Get this- dad packs up the car and takes the kids all the way down to Cape May … then they visit every lighthouse, driving all the way up the Jersey shore until they hit New York. Meanwhile, we're in A.C. doing our own thing. It's genius. "

"We've been doing it since Nicky was little, we used to double date when it was Jack and I" Erin informed, slightly grumpy.

"Part of me was hoping against hope that you two might be able to come with this time" Linda said.

"Oh that sounds so nice." Sydney thrilled. "Shame that we'll be back home tomorrow n-." She was interrupted by her phone in her beach bag. Retrieving and taking a glance at it she softly muttered "Hell no", before silencing it and putting it back in the bag.

Jamie queried "Do I even have to ask?"

A curt nod from Sydney. Knowing that Linda, Danny and Erin could not have missed that, she explained "My mom and I are in a fight, except she doesn't know it yet."

"Over Tuesday?" Jamie pressed.

Another nod, and Sydney put on her sunglasses, and reclined on her spot of the beach blanket to hopefully telegraph that she didn't want to talk about it much further. Danny was content to go back to the game, as the Yankees were staging a rally. Erin and Linda continued to toss inquiring looks Jamie's way.

Jaime sought to respect his fiancée's wishes not to elaborate, and satisfy his sister and sister in law's curiosities at the same time. Silently he mouthed to them "It got ugly".

Despite Jamie's attempts at stealth, Sydney noticed and sighed. "The short version is that my mom really laid into Jamie over dinner Tuesday night. I get that she's not thrilled with him wanting to be a cop –after all _I'm_ still getting used to it – but she seriously crossed the line. She called him the King of the Bait and Switch. I told her if she ever spoke to Jamie like that again, I'd drag him off to Vegas, and the next time she saw me we'd be married. That shut her up. So mommy gets the silent treatment for a few days. I even told her not to call this weekend- we're on 'police holiday'"

Jamie took his perch at the end of the line formed by Erin, Danny, Linda and Sydney, and joined his fiancée in an effort to work on their tans.

Erin and Linda shared a silent, impressed look. Sydney had a certain stubbornness that suggested she'd fit right in on the Reagan family tree.

Linda Reagan had to hand it to Sydney – the newcomer was also taking the concept of "police holiday" in stride. Cops' families … and nurses' families for that matter… never had any hope of taking off the full Memorial Day weekend—such was simply the way with emergency services- working as they did when others had off- and so the Reagan family had always searched for a weekend in mid to late June to visit the seashore in either Long Island or the Jersey shore, depending on circumstances. Danny affectionately called it "Police Memorial Day." –typically one of the first weekends after the school year let out where the whole family could hit the beach.

The pleasures of weekends like this aside, Linda knew that Sydney was bracing herself for Jamie's completion of the academy and the stresses and that would come with it starting on the first day. First of all there would be the obvious terrors and horrors - the fears that every kiss goodbye could be the last kiss ever – that any given shift could prove to be lethal to Jamie, and that the never ending social problem of crime could deprive her of her love forever.

A short distance behind the physical danger were the psychological damages she'd have to watch Jamie absorb ...the shock at having to witness so much human depravity and misfortune and deal with murderers, rapists, child abusers, drug dealers, wife beaters – people that she and Jamie had spent their entire lives never coming into contact with would be riding in Jamie's back seat now. Sydney would now have to watch the man she loved be affected by seeing all these bad things happen to good people.

On top of all this were the other inconveniences –mundane compared to the other problems, but just as real- that emergency work demanded. Long shifts, 11-7 "graveyard" shifts, cancelled or postponed vacations, call-ins in times of disaster. Jamie was signing both himself and Sydney up for lonely nights, odd sleep schedules, and haphazard romance schedules. Everything Linda had gone through with her Danny, Sydney was about to put herself through.

Perhaps worst of all for the cop's spouse or spouse-to-be was the emotional disconnect. Going into a dangerous situation like Danny did, and Jamie would be could be both scary and exciting for the participants, not unlike a roller coaster or an extreme sport. For a loved one waiting at home, or working their own job, it wasn't exciting. It was simply scary.

How would Sydney handle all of this? Just as it was in the case of the police officer himself or herself, there was no way to be sure. Either way it was going to be a huge adjustment for her, especially since when she and Jamie dated and fell in love, he had big plans on being a lawyer, not a cop, hence Mrs Davenport's 'bait-and-switch' crack. Sydney was literally flying blind into some pretty heavy weather.

Regular men and women who wanted to be cops had a six month NYPD academy to teach them how to do it. People who were in love with cops could use a similarly involved school, but had none.

Linda's sigh was one of contentment for herself, and concern for Sydney... like everyone else who were brave enough to love emergency service people, Sydney would simply have to do the best she could.


	3. Prologue February 2011

_**A/N:**__ There's actually a bit more prologue to go. The steak of our adventure takes place in the present year, so we're going to peek in a few more on our two cadres of heroes, as Chuck wraps up its canonical run, and Blue Bloods gets to its current point. But that doesn't mean we can't have our two worlds mix it up a little bit now. The "Prologue of 2011" chapter started running on way too long, so I started breaking it up._

_Chuck's__ Clyde Decker was such a loathsome character that pretty much any nasty or stupid thing he does sounds in character for him. _

_It's not just in keeping with Frank Reagan's character that he distains anyone who underestimates Baker, by season 3 it's canon, and he calls out an old friend who treats her as eye candy. Note that there's a coffee machine in Frank's office. He gets his own coffee. An NYPD detective on staff is to be put to much better use._

_No, there's no Bishop County, California, but that's where Sarah tells Chuck that Steven's cabin is located, and so that's where Alexi Volkoff was apprehended._

_A word of warning for upcoming chapters: The office of Police Commissioner is inherently political and people like Frank Reagan have to deal with and have opinions on hot button political issues. Part of the charm of __Blue Bloods__ is the dinner scene every week where the characters debate social values behind the law and law enforcement, and how they relate to hot button issues. Since I plan on bringing the Chuck and Blue Bloods worlds together, there's going to be some biting and scratching on such topics as vigilantism, due process and gun control. I'm going to give the characters opinions that are in-character for them, not opinions that I necessarily agree or disagree with. Feel free to write whatever you want in the reviews, but I don't think the review sections are the places to start real-world debates for these issues. _

_On that note, __Chuck's__ characters operate in a mostly fictitious parallel-to-the-real-world post 9/11 - national security world that includes the possibilities of indefinite detention, black sites, and enhanced interrogation. On the other hand __Blue Bloods__ in its first season deals with the nightmare scenario of once-good guys (cops) who now think themselves above the law. The takedown of the Blue Templar, who are responsible for the murder of Joe Reagan can only have a profound effect on anyone close to it, including Jamie._

_I don't own either __Chuck__ or __Blue Bloods__._

**Prologue- 2011**

**February 2011**

**New York City, New York **

**Manhattan**

**One Police Plaza**

"Morning, Baker" Commissioner Frank Reagan said cheerily as he strode into his office on the 14th floor of One Police Plaza. Abigail was already on her feet, her arms loaded up with an assortment of thick folders, each one a report that clamored – in their own, silent inanimate way- for top cop's attention. Each one of course, would need to be assigned its own place in the pecking order, and each one was at risk of being shunted aside in the event that something unexpected was to come up.

And something unexpected always did.

"Mayor Russo is insisting on being your 10:00 appointment this morning," Baker informed, earning a quizzical glance from Reagan. If Mayor Francis Russo wanted an unscheduled meeting, he'd of course get one. But what for? Typically the mayor scheduled these things well in advance, and when he didn't, typically they meant he was close to panicking on an explosive case that had political ramifications.

The glance turned into a thoughtful stare towards the picture of Theodore Roosevelt on his office. "Did anything happen last night that's newsworthy?"

That earned him a sardonic glance from Abigail. Almost the entire stack of reports that she had just placed on the center of his calendar ink blotter was "newsworthy". They were the daily reports about yesterday's events for all 77 NYPD patrol precincts, all 12 transit patrol districts, and all 9 housing bureau areas. To make the documentation slightly wieldier, the precincts were grouped into 8 patrol districts, 3 transit boroughs, and 3 housing boroughs, leaving Frank a … "convenient" … 14 reports to flip through, rather than the eye-numbing 98.

Of course most of these precincts had nothing more exciting to report over the last 24 hours then the quiet nights of a residential neighborhood – fender benders, neighbor disputes, car vandalisms, car break ins and medical calls. Other precincts that guarded the shopping districts had business break-ins, vehicle break ins, or vehicle thefts. And a few of the busier districts had the little Post-It note red flags on their reports. These were the violent crimes. Any day, they could affect any precinct, and there was no way to predict which unlucky precinct would be the one where the worst news of the day happened … the precinct whose report found its way to the top of Frank's pile.

"I mean '_anything newsworthy that the mayor probably cares_ _about'_". Frank growled, catching Abigail's look.

"One homicide in the Bronx, a domestic dispute that went very badly. One armed robbery at a bodega in Brooklyn, no casualties, and another one on the subway platform at Bowling Green, again no casualties."

"Those are all the reds?" Frank asked, referring to the red tags that Abigail always placed on the violent files.

"Those are all the reds" Abigail confirmed.

Reagan pursed his lips. "Mmmmm. Nothing that the mayor would want to make a surprise visit for."

Garret Moore soon entered and took up his place in front of Reagan's desk, and unceremoniously began with his report for the day. "I've got a few remarks together, just in case you want to change your mind about the St. Patty's parade next month."

"That was a 'yes' to the parade, but still a 'no' to the speech, Garret."

"I'll put them on notecards. You'll change your mind" he said with confidence.

"Garret… Okay. Fine. Notecards." Reagan capitulated. "But later. The mayor's coming in today. At 10."

"Brunch with the mayor?" Garret asked

"He did _not_ suggest it was a brunch." Abigail informed.

Frank held up his three files. "Well whatever it is, let's assume that it's _not_ about these three reds today. Abigail, get the district chiefs for Manhattan Transit, Bronx and Brooklyn …."

"South" Abigail provided.

"Get Manhattan Transit and Brooklyn South on the phone, and tell them I want regular updates on the two armed robberies. Every four hours, I want them to make your phone ring. I'll assume that the domestic was a grounder?" Frank said, employing the old fashioned NYPD slang for a crime that left little doubt as to who the perpetrator was, and resulted in a quick arrest. Just as many plays in baseball were simply about catching ground balls, and throwing to first base for the easy out, many crimes, even some tragic ones, the police had to solve were quickly put to rest.

"Grounder. I believe so, but I'll call Bronx deputy chief to verify."

"Good. Thanks, Baker." Frank said as the peerlessly efficient aide disappeared from the office.

Thrilled at having the office for the time, Garret asked "Now for the St. Patty's day notes?"

Various chores were performed in the two hours, most of them centering on Reagan's expected speech next month. A few over-dogged reporters wanted sound bites in regard to the robberies, clearly not understanding the fact that while Reagan did in fact give attention to every violent crime, the perception of him giving such attention on TV served to augment the fear factor of the crime. Were the commissioner to comment on every single mugging, the perception could quickly escalate to seem as if the mugging problem was so bad, that the commissioner was overly concerned… which he wasn't. Muggers were typically not master villains, and typically lacked forethought and planning, and these two today would probably quickly be snatched.

At 10:09, Mayor Frank Russo entered, ushered in by Abigail. Reagan and Garret Moore rose in greeting.

"Hi, Frank. Thanks for meeting on short notice." Mayor Russo began. "Last night I teleconferenced with the Secretary of State. Time for a pop geography quiz. Anyone know offhand where Costa Gravas is?"

"Oh, I know this one" Garret shut his eyes in faux concentration. Giving up, he shrugged. "I was wrong. I don't."

"I'm pretty sure we keep it somewhere between Cuba and Puerto Rico, unless it's floated away." Reagan said.

"Pretty much," Mayor Russo admitted. "Well, it seems like they've had an attempted coup a few months back, and the once-upon-a-time-dictator turned legit president needs to revamp their state security forces. They suddenly have uhhh …a few openings in the ranks." Mayor Russo allowed himself a smile.

"Well that's all good for them", Reagan allowed, still not sure why the mayor was here about this at 10:00 in the morning.

"Well apparently the premier down there, one Alejandro Goya, pretty much grew up watching every American-cop show ever. He's in love with the NYPD, and wants to pattern his new forces after it. The Sec State's real excited about this- just think of it, a former communist regime with a state security force that actually respects the rights of its people."

Now Frank was impressed. "It's a step in the right direction. Actually a lot of steps in the right direction."

"Right?" The mayor chortled with glee. "And our very own NYPD gets bragging rights about being the template. I mean forget about what we've been trying to do in Iraq for the last few years, Frank- this is nation-building for real! And the NYPD's a part of it.!"

Frank's face fell. He was pretty sure his son Danny, a Marine and a veteran of Gulf War II's Fallujah Campaign would not be happy with Mayor Russo's dismissal of American efforts there. He was pretty sure he himself wasn't happy with it either.

Russo, being Russo, didn't notice the change in Frank's demeanor as he got to the meat and potatoes of his mission here. His face turned serious for a second. "It does require you to send a task force down there. Say about 20 guys and girls. Some from recruiting, some from training, maybe one or two from Internal Affairs. Now, we need to make this sing as well as possible, Frank. You pick your guys, and I want them to be good."

Frank smiled. "I'll send them the second best guys I have. The best ones I keep here for myself. Maybe we can even invite a Costa Gravan or two up to check out the academy."

"Great idea, Frank. We'll invite them ourselves. Let's set up a video conference tomorrow with both our SecState and theirs."

"I like that idea, Mr. Mayor. I take it your guys will arrange it through Baker this afternoon?"

"You know it, Frank. This is going to be freaking great!" Mayor Russo turned to leave. Outside the door he collected his body guard, and made for the elevators.

Frank allowed himself a smile. It wasn't very often that he and Mayor Frank Russo agreed on anything, and the moments they did were probably ones to treasure. His NYPD, America's premier law enforcement agency was often looked up to as a model for other departments. It was indeed an honor for a sovereign nation to want to emulate it.

Garret interrupted his reverie. "Okay. St. Patty's day notes again."

Baker burst in, interrupting Garett's interruption "Deputy Chief Sickles on line three"

Frank held up his hand for Garret's silence. Deputy Chief James Sickles was in charge of the Manhattan Transit borough, and his call, well before Frank's four hour update demand, probably heralded good news. "Yeah James … okay… Good…. And you like him for it? … Okay that's good news." He glanced at the clock, then down again at one of the red tagged files. "Great. I count less than seven hours from 911 to collar. That's a good clock. Good work to your squad. Tell them I said so."

"One in custody for this morning's Bowling Green platform mugging." Frank said, contented. While the fact that someone had gotten mugged and their night ruined was not ideal, the quick arrest pleased him.

"We're tinplating for Costa Gravas, a quick turnaround on a case. We might have a great day if we're not too careful." Garret grinned.

Abigail was once more through the door. "Sir, the mayor has returned, and he has company this time."

Reagan's brow furrowed. _A friend? What could this mean?_

Mayor Russo's head popped through the door, beaming. "The cat came back, and he dragged in some good news." Russo then bounced back into the office.

The other man passed by Abigail as he came into the office. "Thanks, hon" he said to her. Holding out a wallet with his credentials, he introduced himself "Clyde Decker, CIA." He put his wallet back and offered his hand with a smooth, oily, toothy smile, not realizing that he was already on Commissioner Frank Reagan's – and less importantly Garrett's – bad side.

Abigail Baker was a Detective, 2nd grade with eleven years' experience in the NYPD. Because she had a desk near the PC's office, announced his frequent visitors, organized his prodigious paper workload, and was very attractive, some under-informed –but just as often downright foolish - visitors sometimes mistook her for a secretary, such as one a CEO of a company would have, or some other office gofer whose essential tasks involved fetching coffee, answering the phones, and looking pretty.

The truth was that this "secretary" was in charge of Frank's personal protective detail and always carried a fully loaded Glock 26, with an extra magazine of ammunition. With it, she had to qualify annually simply to remain a police officer, and quarterly to command his detail. She was a 9/11 responder at The Pile inher rookie year. She also had 6 years of patrol, 2 years as a narcotics investigator and 3 as a special victims (sex crimes) investigator under her belt, having witnessed more horror and heroism then many cops, some soldiers in war time, and any soldier in peacetime. She had taken night classes in public relations, and when any person had a scheduled meeting with the PC on her calendar, she investigated and quickly learned everything about them, practically down to their favorite breakfast cereal. Her position in the NYPD was far closer to a general's aide-de-camp than anyone from the secretary's pool. Frank Reagan often had to battle wits with the people who came to visit him in this office, and in these battles, Baker's preparatory research was a powerful saber at his side.

Frank Reagan preferred to take his time and evaluate each individual, and so get the best measure of any individual he was to ally with or oppose. But anyone who disrespected or belittled Baker made it easy for Frank to peg them as short sighted, arrogant, and prone to underestimating things and people they didn't understand. He had never been wrong about it before. Frank would try to give this Clyde Decker the benefit of the doubt, but so far, he didn't like him.

"That'll be all, _Detective_ Baker," Frank flashed his most polite smile, and stressed Baker's title for Decker's benefit. Then, as formality demanded, he shook Decker's hand.

Abigail gave her boss a professionally courteous smile, and left.

"Don't we usually get our national intel briefings from the NSA?" Garret wondered aloud.

"This is totally off the books" Decker beamed. "I was just up the way raising a little hell at the federal building, and I'd thought you'd like to hear the good news. Gun violence in your town is probably about to go down. Hard and fast."

Frank arched an eyebrow, gestured for Decker and the mayor to sit, and circled around to the comfy chair behind his desk. Decker's news was about to be either miraculous or ridiculous, and from what little Reagan knew about Decker, he'd place a shiny nickel on the latter. Either way, the comfy chair would be nice.

"And how is this wonderful thing going to happen for us?" Reagan asked.

Sitting down, Decker grinned widely. "Late last night Alexi Volkoff was taken into custody in California. His offices are pretty much an empty shell, and Volkoff Industries is about to be boarded up."

Frank kept his face impassive. Volkoff Industries was indeed one of the world's leading arms manufacturers. In the bizarre world's fair that was international weapons making, Volkoff ranked next to Kalashnikov and Makarov as Russian made weapons. Their guns were associated with the country, the same way that Walther was associated with Germany, Glock with Austria, and Colt, Smith and Wesson, and Ruger were with the United States. Volkoff pistols were indeed commonly found in on plenty of street thugs. True to Russian form, Volkoff's weapons were reliable – and cheap, just like Kalashnikovs and Makarovs were.

"So he's in jail now?" Reagan asked.

"Forever!" Decker looked as if he'd burst with pride.

Reagan could only manage a smile that he hoped didn't look condescending. The arrest of one weapons manufacturer on God-knows-what charge did nothing to scoop up the weapons he'd been making for the last thirty years. It wasn't as if arms dealing were a vampire movie, and killing the head vampire suddenly caused all the evil he'd spawned fall asleep and recover. Whatever guns Volkoff had manufactured in the last 30 years were out there, most of them probably in the hands of various militaries, others on the walls and gun cabinets of collectors,... and some of them falling into the hands of criminals. They were still going to be out there tomorrow and for a lot more tomorrows.

"Well Agent Decker, I'm very happy to hear that. It's always good news when a criminal is put behind bars where he belongs."

"Good news!?" Russo boomed, truly perplexed by Reagan's lack of enthusiasm. "Isn't it great? Frank how many guns do you get off the street in any given year?"

"Anywhere between 3,000 to not-quite 4,000."

"And how many of those are Volkoff Industries Weapons?" Decker challenged.

"Possibly as many as ten percent .Certainly more than five percent." Frank allowed. _Of course the criminals who would be getting their hands on Volkoff weapons will have to make do with one of the other fifty or so gun manufacturers … or use their older Volkoff guns. _

"Seems to me that you can work on your re-election victory speech, your honor" Decker puffed, as he stood and made ready to leave.

Frank also rose to show him the door – and tried hard not to burst out laughing. He silently hoped the mayor would linger behind so he could set him straight on how the world worked. He wasn't looking forward to that. He looked so happy at the idea of what he saw as a guaranteed 5-10% drop in gun crime. It would be like telling his grandsons that there was no Santa Claus. Still, he allowed a courteous "Thank you for the good news and for your efforts."

"Hey, any time. We don't get to take a lot of credit at the CIA- secrets are our business and all that. So it's great to let the right people steal the credit when we can." Decker left, and happily for Reagan, Mayor Russo stayed behind.

Unhappily for Reagan, Russo had a huge, eager grin on his face. "So… when do you think we'll feel the effects of no-more-Volkoff?"

"Mr. Mayor, I'll be honest. Probably never. They arrested one man, but they didn't pick up any guns that were destined for our streets- or any ones streets. Arresting Alexi Volkoff doesn't make people stop using the Volkoff weapons that are still out there. If he's right about the company closing down – and I say that's a pretty big "if", by the way - and there'll be no new Volkoff pistols made… then that just means that wannabe thugs and gangsters will switch over to another make and model. Unfortunately our criminals aren't known for brand name loyalty. So, I'm happy that a criminal went to jail, but no, it's not a godsend for our crime statistics."

Russo looked shocked, as if he'd found a winning lottery ticket that turned out to be a mean spirited practical joke. "You're serious."

"I'm serious." Frank nodded.

Russo sighed. "Frank, has anyone told you that you can be a real buzzkill?"

Regan smiled "Costa Gravas, your honor. It's still a good day."

Russo left dejected. Garrett sympathized as he shut the door. "What the heck just happened? Did we get an ad-hoc security briefing from CIA?"

Reagan shook his head. "One man decided it'd be fun to cultivate political contacts with either the mayor or myself. Probably looking towards his post-Agency future. If it were anything official, the intel we got would have meant something."

Garret scoffed bitterly as he checked his cell phone. Sure enough, the arrest of Alexi Volkoff in Bishop County, California was one of the headlining stories on his CNN ap. "Gee, sure is swell of that nice CIA agent to come in and tell us something the entire world's reading about over their lunch break. I would have hated to think they were wasting time tracking the money of terrorists and drug dealers, or dumb stuff like that."

Abigail knocked again and entered. "Deputy Chief Wayne on line two"

Frank and Garret shared a look of victory. Chief Michael Wayne was in charge of the Brooklyn South district, and it was likely this was a report on the other mugging. Clyde Decker aside, the news from Costa Gravas, and the apprehension of all three perpetrators from all three violent crimes from last night meant that Garret was right - today was going to be a good day.


	4. Prologue May 2011 (A)

**Prologue -May 2011**

_**A/N:**__ The two shows are in different genres, and so I felt I needed to bridge the gap between them. Carina was always going to be a big part of that bridge, seeing as how she's the only person in the Chuckiverse who's actually in law enforcement. Carina is going to be huge, and I'm champing at the bit to show her as a competent cop (she's DEA, remember, not CIA as per Chuck vs The Wookie), and not just an oversexed, hot tempered, redheaded version of Sarah. But don't worry, she'll still be oversexed, although I plan to keep the rating here at a T._

_Zondra's going to be even more fun to write for as she's such a question mark. She and Carina have cameos at best in Chuck vs the Cliffhanger, and we only really see her in Chuck vs The Cat Squad… except that we don't, really. She's a red herring for most of the show. The treacherous Amy actually gets a better explanation (as villains always do) then the real Zondra. Real Zondra only has a few lines making up with Sarah at the end of the ep, since she's under a cloud of suspicion for most of the show, and that suspicion clouds her lines, actions, and our perception of her. _

_I break ranks with some of my fellow Chuck fans about my feelings for Hannah. Ultimately she was an obstacle in Charah's road towards getting together, and in the Chuck fandom, things that get in the way of Charah get run over - and vilified with extreme prejudice. But I think the unwelcome character was well written, and even sympathetic. Innocent of any wrongdoing, Hannah leaves the show bitter and heartbroken thinking that Chuck simply used her for sex, and Chuck (who didn't) can't correct her without explaining his spy life to her. _

_IN TV land, police officers work out of what I call The OmniPrecinct – a police precinct that seems to cover the entire city. Every police show set in New York (NYPD Blue, Law & Order, Blue Bloods) has the same problem when dealing with those sophisticated audiences who know anything about New York – What precinct to the cops work out of? _

_A city loaded with nifty landmarks to use as backdrops like New York has the problem of these landmarks being scattered all throughout the city, often miles and miles apart from each other (NYC is REALLY big, as you may have heard) The precincts/districts of a real life big city, on the other hand are fixed… and are sometimes located in non- photogenic or boring areas. Thus, in real life, a cop who had a case in Chinatown one week would NEVER catch a case in Brighton Beach the next week. Nor would Danny and Jackie investigate a shooting on Park Avenue one week … then investigate a body found by the Brooklyn Bridge the next. Jamie and Renzuli/Vinny/Eddie seem to patrol all over the city. Show writers help along the suspension of disbelief by usually assigning the fictitious cops to precincts that don't exist in real life, and hand wave the fact that our favorite cops are all over the map of New York from week to week. I think I gotta ask for the same leniency in police geography that show writers always do. In Blue Bloods, all the cops seem to work out of the Twelfth Precinct (which doesn't exist), as Jamie and Danny have enough scenes in the same station house to suggest that while Danny and his partner are working upstairs, Jamie is standing for roll call downstairs. _

_In case you were curious, if the below traffic stop scene happened in real life, it'd take place in New York's 17__th__ Precinct. That'll save you the time of looking it up. (Don't be embarrassed, I'd look it up too.)_

**Prologue - May 2011**

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**Los Angeles, California**

**Grand Ambassador Hotel & Convention Center**

**Bridal Chamber**

Zondra Rizzo's eyes flitted about the room in something close to a panic. She searched her teammates' eyes for any semblance of a plan, promise of support, or a reassurance that either had any idea what she should do. But there was none – both were indisposed.

Carina's attention was preoccupied by the two men -one burly, the other bearded- who were arguing over her. Sarah was tightly held by a third man, and didn't even notice her plight. Zondra was for the moment on her own.

The three members of the old CAT squad whose very survival once depended on sex appeal and firepower now found themselves weaponless. There would be no extraction, running away was not an option – and neither was fighting, as there were no enemies nearby.

Trembling, her palms sweating, Zondra made her way to Carina. "Carina, what happens next? I'm not sure what to do."

"You think _you're_ having problems?" Carina snapped. "I'm the one who can't get a date to save my life. This hasn't happened to me since well before puberty." In despair she flung her hand in a frustrated gesture at the two men who were bickering about her. Neither John Casey nor Morgan Grimes wanted the honor of escorting her into the reception hall when the bridal court was announced. And with that, she was pretty much out of men.

True, there were two more guys there in the bridal chamber. One of them, Devon was _smoking_ hot … but he was married, his wife Ellie was never further than five feet away from him, and Sarah had vehemently decreed him to be absolutely, positively, undeniably, non-negotiable-ly off limits. The other one, Chuckie, was the newly minted groom, and was of course reserved for Sarah. Carina didn't know a lot about weddings- it was her first one- but she did know that. That left her with Casey or Morgan … and a badly bruised ego.

Carina Miller, who could barely walk into a nightclub in New York, or hail a taxicab in DC without receiving a half dozen propositions found herself a bit of a pariah at her oldest friend's wedding reception.

"Grimes, I am not walking with Carina. If you bring it up again, I'm going to dismember you into small pieces." Casey growled threateningly.

"Yeah, but Casey" Morgan countered. "If I walk with Carina, it's going to upset Alex. And if Alex gets upset because of something I did, then you'll dismember me into even _smaller_ pieces, won't you?"

Casey had to allow a grunt of agreement. Inflicting inconvenience on him called for one kind of retribution. Inflicting pain on his daughter called for another, far more terrifying sort of vengeance. He maintained his glower at Morgan, but said no more as the diminutive bearded one played his trump card.

"Besides, Sarah promised that I wouldn't have to walk with Carina."

Wondering if this is how a leper felt like back in biblical times, Carina repeated disbelievingly "'Wouldn't … _have_ to…_'_ Guys I'm _standing right here_!" Carina practically shouted in despair. "Is it really the end of the world for one of you guys to walk out with me?"

"Yes!" Morgan shot back.

"Probably not, but why chance it?" Casey said at almost the same time.

Nearby, both Devon and Ellie Woodcomb noticed Carina's shout, as well as Morgan and Casey's squabbling. Ellie was amused, Devon was confused.

"Am I missing something big here babe?" Devon wanted to know.

Ellie turned to her husband, grinning from ear to ear. "Morgan had a fling with Carina" she said nodding towards the redhead. "Long before he met Alex. Casey used to run with Carina long before _that_."

Devon's eyes looked like they wanted to pop out of his head. "Morgan and Casey … Eskimo brothers? Woah. Brain stamp."

"Carina's liberated. Don't judge." Ellie said sweetly and quietly. "That and she's Sarah's best friend"

"Baaaabe… _you're_ Sarah's best friend. That's why you're matron …" Ellie's chestnut eyes flashed with menace at her husband's vocabulary choice. "Maid of honor." He quickly corrected.

Although he knew his original word choice was technically correct, as Ellie was both a wife and mother, and thus should proudly carry the word 'Matron' to her title…. Ellie also hated the word, didn't let Devon forget that she hated the word, and once Baby Clara had adopted a tolerable sleep schedule, had worked hard to reestablish her bikini-ready body … as if this upcoming summer were a regular one no different from any other, and as if Devon wasn't in love with her intelligence and wit as well as her looks. Blessed to a level beyond most men in such a wife, Devon decided that being such a grammar tyrant was unproductive at best, and ungrateful to a benevolent universe at worst.

"Ha." Ellie countered "That's because she could count on me to be here and not starting Arab Spring in Libya"

"Oh I don't think so. I think Sarah probably gave out big points for not-having-slept with two of the groom's friends." Devon grinned.

Ellie smiled, and then her face turned slightly serious. "Hey what did I say? Don't judge."

Furious at her two dueling ex-flings, Carina stormed over to the other side of the bridal chamber where the newlyweds cuddled quietly. Sarah Bartowski (nee Walker) sat in her husband's lap. Chuck had his arms around the waist of his new bride and hung onto her like he'd never let go. Sarah would periodically lean backwards and kiss her new hubby's cheek, then rest he head on Chuck's shoulder. Sarah had a quiet smile on her face, and looked rather sleepy – understandable considering the coma she'd come out of in in the last few hours.

Noticing the raging glint in her oldest friend's eyes, Sarah sought to turn away her wrath. "Carina, you're with Casey. Zondra's with Morgan. I promised Alex and Morgan I'd look out for them."

Carina grinned. Now that the bride's mind was made up, Casey was jolly well stuck. "Hear that Casey?" Carina called over, "You're with me. So suck it up, buttercup."

Zondra came up again on Carina's flank asked again "So where did we land on the what-exactly-happens-next thing?"

"Oh, how should I know?" Carina shrugged and gestured to Chuck and Sarah. "Ask the people who have been to weddings before!"

Sarah again picked her head up from Chuck's shoulder and said "This is actually only my second."

Ellie and Devon swooped in to the rescue. "It's really easy Zondra." Ellie said. "In a few minutes, the wedding coordinator is going to ask us to line up, every girl with a guy. The only wild card is going to be our mom and Clara. They're going to go first. Then it's you and Morgan, Carina and Casey, me and Devon, and then Sarah and Chuck. Then the whole bridal party stands at watches as Chuck and Sarah take their first dance together. Then I give a toast, Morgan gives a toast, and we eat. Then we party the night away. But Sarah is recovering, and is taking it easy tonight with the booze. So no tequila shots. For that, I'm your girl."

Zondra calmed slightly. "It sounds so easy. I can't believe I'm freaking out about this. I'm actually sweating. The last time I was sweating there was C-4 and a timer involved."

"Ooooookay…" Devon said, having never gotten used to the comfort level that Chuck, Casey, Sarah, and now Carina and Zondra had with violence and the weapons thereof. "But it sounds like you've got a case of stage fright. Totally different kind of fear then what you're probably used too. Take me, for example. Just because I could deal with messing around inside people's hearts didn't mean I was ready when I had to give my first press conference. And in LA, heart doctors have to give a LOT of them. Just take a deep breath and you'll be fine. You've got a nice light workload."

A waiter showed up with a tray and a pad. "Could I interest you in anything to drink?"

"Oh, hell yeah." Carina said decisively. "Beefeater up."

"Stoli up' Zondra said, the concept of bar service in this bridal room being a welcome revelation.

The recuperating Sarah ordered a ginger ale, and Chuck, in deference to his new bride went with a Sprite.

"Oh, it's okay sweetie, You don't have to stay sober just because I do." Sarah reassured with a soft purr into his ear. Realizing something just now, she perked her head up and whirled around to Ellie. "Oh my God! I just gave my first wifely permission to my husband!"

Ellie beamed at her, her eyes as wide as her smile. "I know, isn't it great!?"

"Oh don't worry about a thing, Walker" Casey wolfishly grinned at the couple. "Grimes, Devon and I have plans for your groom tonight. He's not going to be staying sober for long." To the cocktail waiter he placed a five dollar bill on his tray. "And two Johnny Walker blacks, neat." This wedding- and Sarah's survival- had been hard won victory for Team Bartowski, and the liquor would flow copiously on this Night of Nights, as it was a celebration on so many levels.

"John" Sarah said, holding up her left hand. "It's not 'Walker' anymore. It's Bartowski." He smile was both sweet and serious.

"Wow" Carina gaped "That _is_ going to take some getting used to."

"And furthermore," Sarah's smile turned saucy. "_I'm_ the one who's supposed to have plans for the groom tonight."

Casey groaned, while Carina and Zondra grinned like a pair of Mako sharks.

The door came open and two more important women in Chuck and Sarah's life came in. The first one was very young, very short, and didn't say much, as she held a firm belief that mouths were for suckling on pacifiers. She was carried in by the second woman, Chuck and Ellie's mother, and Sarah's and Devon's mother in law, Mary Bartowski. "And thaaaaaat's one clean Baby Clara …" she beamed, holding up her granddaughter for inspection. Ellie held out her arms to accept her daughter, but Mary demurred, and pivoted over to the newlyweds "… who wants to say hi to her now-it's-official new Aunt Sarah!"

Sarah's eyes flew wide in delight … and a little bit of panic. Although Chuck had held his niece more than a few times, Sarah hadn't very often, preferring to play with Clara's itty bitty fist while Chuck held her. Uncertain of what to do next she looked at Ellie … who pantomimed how she should hold the baby, with her upper arm out from her body, and bent at the elbow 90 degrees. Sarah complied, and Mary deposited her granddaughter in the arms of the aunt. Sarah mouthed silently "Thanks Ellie" to her new sister in law.

Mary then turned to Zondra and Carina. "You girls clear on what happens next?"

"Ellie explained it to us" Zondra nodded. "I think I get it."

The Cold War spy spoke in clipped tones to the two 21st century spies. "Simple two-column deployment; men and women. Clara and I take point, followed by Zondra/Morgan, Carina/Casey, Ellie/Devon and finishing with Sarah/Chuck. At center stage, couples part, men oblique left, women oblique right and assume flanking positions by the wedding party table. And clap for the bride and groom. Clear?"

"Clear!" Zondra and Carina said in unison.

Devon and Ellie were stunned. After a moment, Devon took a step towards Sarah and wondered aloud "Do we have the coolest mother-in-law ever? Or the scariest?"

"Maybe a little of both" Sarah smiled.

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**New York City, New York**

**Manhattan Borough **

**General Doubleday Diner**

"I'm on the lookout for a jinx, Sarge. It's bad enough that my company reunion was early." Jamie Reagan said with a grin as he eyed the celebratory ice cream sundae in front of him. Dinner today, including the ice cream was on Sgt. Anthony Renzuli, his immediate supervisor, and training officer/ partner for the last year.

This 4 to 11 shift they were on was Jamie's final shift as a probationary NYPD officer. After this shift, one year after his graduation from the academy, he was automatically promoted from "Probationary Police Officer " to "Police Officer". There was no ceremony, and in a way it wasn't even that special-every rookie, with the exception of the ones who exhibited signs of being unsuited to police work- was expected to pass it. But every young police officer who passed probation breathed a sigh of relief nonetheless.

"Hey kid," Renzuli said, from the other side of the booth, pitching into his own ice cream. "You hear me gripe about how your brother Danny has some bad habits, but one attitude that he's dead on about is this- celebrate your victories. So we're celebrating. And as for jinxes … So far you've got one gun collar, one commendation, and a glowing review by yours truly. You're about as in the bag as these things get, with a measly" he checked his watch "four hours and two minutes to go." Renzuli's eyes narrowed. "to say nothing of you pitching in and helping takin' down Malevski and the Blue Templar. There's probably no rule on how much something like that counts for, but it's gotta count for something."

Jamie winced. His father had personally led the takedown of the rouge faction of crooked cops that called themselves the Blue Templar. They had been corrupt, treacherous, and murderous. When his brother Joe had infiltrated them on behalf of the FBI, they set him up to be "accidentally" murdered during a raid – and then murdered two luckless drug dealers for good measure, so that to the outside world it looked like a raid that went badly.

The takedown of the Templar, on the other hand was fairly smooth. The entire cadre of bent policemen were taken into custody, their weapons sized, and their shields stripped of them. The seized badges, forever stained and now unfit for service, were already melted down and recycled, and their badge numbers inked out. Never again would those cursed badge numbers haunt the honor of the NYPD.

The men themselves would be facing stiff prison sentences in Sing-Sing, Danamora, and Attica, and policemen themselves convicted in crimes faced very hard time indeed. Sonny Malevski, who had personally murdered Joe, decided to settle out of court, and plea bargained with 9mm bullet to his own brain.

Later, Jamie's dad said that he liked to believe that Joe was with them on that bust. And so he had been. Danny had made especially sure that of all the equipment that came with them on the bust, Joe's old set of hand cuffs snapped onto the wrists of one of the cops-gone-bad.

It was a week of finishing unfinished business, cleaning up the department, and bringing justice to those who had thought they had escaped it. … plus Jamie's promotion. Surely a victory for the good guys. And yet Renzuli was a little bit piqued at Jamie, and Jamie knew it. Not only had Jamie kept him in the dark for months about his interactions with the FBI and the Blue Templar, the Reagan family hadn't brought him in for the endgame to bust the dirty cops. Danny Reagan's partner Jackie Curatola had been brought in as backup when the ax dropped on the Templar, but he, Jamie Reagan's partner remained in blissful ignorance of everything.

To a proud and honorable cop like Renzuli, it was hard not to take the slight personally, even though his rational side knew better. Partners were supposed to trust each other in all things, rely on each other for mutual support – Renzuli himself was teaching Jamie that. The kid had learned well, but had been pulling off a clandestine operation all on his own. It hurt Renzuli a little to know that. It also hurt that he wasn't invited into the bust – a party he would have loved to have made. Years ago, Joe Reagan had been Renzuli's first assignment as a TO – Training Officer. He had taken Joe's death hard, and would have liked nothing better than to see the looks on the men of Blue Templar's faces as they were arrested and they imagined their careers burning in a pyre of their own greed, and their worthless futures behind bars.

Still, Jamie had been a good rookie, and was well on the way to becoming a good cop. Renzuli was proud of his own work in blacksmithing yet another blue garbed weapon in the war on crime. Jamie would no doubt have a long successful career on the force, assuming a five ton safe didn't drop on his head in the next three hours and fifty-six minutes. Anthony Renzuli had seen a lot of new cops come in and adjust to the rigors of the job. He tolerated them all, respected most of them, liked many of them, and was proud of a few like Jamie. They deserved some ice cream, and really neither of them wanted to bring up Renzuli's being left out of the takedown.

"End of probie year" Jamie sighed. "Don't wanna suck up Sarge, but thanks for everything. I feel like I learned a lot."

"You did, kid. And you're welcome. Glad I could turn you into something useful." Renzuli grinned.

Ice cream devoured and check paid, the two cops left the Doubleday Diner and found their car.

Sergeant Renzuli's vehicle was a 2007 Ford Crown Victoria, painted white with the "NYPD" livery on both driver and passenger front doors, and the patch of the department directly forward of it. At the rear doors the letters "CPR" slashed downward, each letter beginning the one of the words "Courtesy, Professionalism, Respect"

"I'll drive. Call us back in" Renzuli said, heading for the driver side door, as usual.

Pausing at the passenger side door, Jamie keyed the radio mike that rested on his shoulder. "Central, this is Twelve-King and Twelve-King-One, end of Ten-Sixty-Three. Show us back in."

"Copy, Twelve-King and Twelve-King-One back in service." came the dispatcher's voice from over the airwaves.

As the senior officer out on patrol in the Twelfth Precinct, Sergeant Anthony Renzuli's patrol code was Twelve-King. The cops under his command were identified by which sector of the Twelfth Precinct they were patrolling, such as Twelve-Adam for "A" sector, Twelve-Baker for "B" sector, and so forth. There was no "K" sector for Twelve King – as Watch Commander, every sector was "his" sector, and so he and his partner could be found anyplace in the Twelfth Precinct.

It was just past 7:30, and dusk was beginning to fall. The streetlights were on, and maybe half the cars moving down 30th Street had their headlights on. Renzuli started the car, and pulled onto Third Avenue, and made for the left hand lane, the best way to start his zig-zag patrol of the Twelfth. As they waited at the red light to make the left on to 31st Street he spoke up. "I always thought it should be a bigger deal, when boots pass probation, like you should get a new patch or decoration for your hat or something."

Jamie shook his head. "In my family sarge, passing probation wouldn't be a big deal. In fact if I couldn't cut it, I'd probably never be able to show my face there again," he chuckled, half-jokingly. He wouldn't be disowned, of course… but Danny would surely never let him live it down.

"I'm serious though. You pass probation, and it's the end of all that You-Can-Get-Fired-At-The-Drop-Of-A-Hat nonsense." Renzuli said. It was true. Once past probation, a rookie's job was his to loose. The officer would have to be caught doing something dreadfully inappropriate or illegal in order to get fired, such as accepting a bribe, severely and unnecessarily beating a suspect, or stealing from someone's home. Such was true of almost every cop except for first year rookies. During the probationary phase that Jamie was just leaving, he could have lost his job for simpler infractions like showing up late or discourtesy or other attitude problems that would result in a reprimand for a veteran, but completely end the career of a rookie.

"Three hours and fifty minutes to go. Your last chance to get rid of me, sarge." Jamie grinned.

Making the turn onto 31st street and traveling west, Renzuli grinned again. "It's been a year kid. If I wanted to be rid of you, you'd be gone by now."

They stopped at the red light on 31st and Lexington, and patiently waited for the light to turn green. From their vantage point, they could see the traffic signal monitoring the southbound traffic on Lexington Avenue. Renzuli was eager to make his left hand turn onto Lex and watched as the green light turned stale, and then went yellow.

At the same time, they could hear the revving of a car's engine coming from their right front, as a southbound car on Lex tried to beat the red light. Both cops head's turned to witness what sounded like trouble. More than a few traffic accidents and fatalities were caused by poor decisions a lot like the one this driver was making. Not only were they in danger of running a soon-to-be-red-light, it was likely they were speeding.

The car's engine had grown louder, but neither Jamie nor Renzuli could see the car yet. It was obviously in one of the right hand lanes of Lexington Ave, which meant that it was blocked from view by the nearer left hand lanes of traffic, a line of taxicabs that had already stopped for what was now a stale yellow light.

Just as the light turned red, the belligerent car cleared the sightline obstructions and sprang into view from the right hand, or far lane. Both Jamie and Renzuli immediately recognized the trademark livery on the sides and top of the car. It was a Buy More Nerd Herder, coated orange and white, with the Nerd Herd logo and the number "**5**" emblazoned on the doors, hood and roof. Probably going the speed limit, the Nerd Herder zoomed past the stilled cars, through the red light, and was safely across the intersection as Renzuli's and Jamie's light turned green.

"He's joking, right?" Renzuli asked incredulously.

"Computer emergency?" Jamie quipped. Already his left hand fingers were down on his side at the console between himself and his sergeant. One small switch activated the police car's siren, and a second switch turned on the emergency roof lights.

At the sound of the siren Jamie had activated, Renzuli gunned the engine. With a guttural snarl, the Crown Vic obediently sprang to life and launched into the intersection as Renzuli swung the wheel to turn south onto Lexington, and fall in behind the Nerd Herder. The police car hungrily devoured the few dozen yards between the two.

Immediately, the driver of the Nerd Herder saw the predicament, and pulled over as best as they could. Handily, there was a curb nearby that was unoccupied of parked cars, an oddity for New York. The driver pulled into what space there allowed. Unfortunately, there was only enough curbside space for the one car, the Nerd Herder. The NYPD car would not be able to fall in behind them.

It was no matter. Traffic stops in New York happened all the time, and under all sorts of conditions. The right hand lane of Lexington Avenue was simply going to be unavailable for a brief while. Renzuli put the police car in park, while Jamie killed the siren and activated the "left arrow" switch.

At that, a band of yellow lights illuminated under the police car's rooflight kit, streaming directionally towards the left hand lanes, and signaling to any traffic stuck behind the police car that the right hand lane would be impassible for a time, and that they should detour left.

Next Jamie turned on the "take down" lights. These were essentially floodlights. Floodlights were on all sides of the roof of the police car, and the ones pointed ahead were called "take downs". In the gathering dusk, they bathed the Nerd Herder in brilliant – perhaps even obnoxiously uncomfortable light. This created a tactical advantage for the officers trying to look at and into the stopped car - and put the occupants in the car at a disadvantage should they attempt to size up Jamie and Renzuli. When the two cops approached the car, they'd appear to the driver only as murky shadows in the middle of unnatural light.

From their vantage point, Jamie and Renzuli could just see the license plate of the Nerd Herder, and could see just enough of the driver to see that it was a brunette female, youngish looking, and fairly pretty.

Renzuli looked down at the small laptop computer that hovered on the arm between himself and Jamie. Calling up the DMV database, he said "Ok, Reagan. Read' em off to me."

"New York license plate Baker-Michael-Nancy-Henry Zero-Six- Zero-Two." Jamie grinned_. 'BMNH'-0602 Buy More Nerd Herd. Cute._

Renzuli fed the data into the computer, silently giving thanks to above for the progress of technology. Gone were the days where he'd have to call in a license plate number to Central Dispatch and patiently wait for the dispatcher to call back with such useful information as the answers to questions like _"has this car been stolen recently?"_ and "_has this car been involved in a crime recently_?" To be sure, without onboard computers, their comrades on motorcycles _still_ had to do just that.

Not that either Renzuli or Jamie seriously thought that either were the case. Buy More Nerd Herders typically had dull, uninteresting existences for cars. Neither cop had ever heard of such a vehicle getting stolen or being used to run someone over, or get shot at or shot from, or being used to smuggle a bomb or getting blown up or anything like that. Add onto that the fact 99 % of traffic stops were pretty much what they seemed. This was probably just a careless driver who ran a red.

But because of that 1% … you just never knew. Of all police officers that were attacked in the line of duty, fully one third of them were assaulted during traffic stops. While Renzuli typed the license plate into the computer, Jamie keyed the car's radio mike. "Twelve- King and Twelve-King-One on scene at a Ten-Sixty Seven, Three-Zero block of Lexington. Vehicle is a Buy More Nerd Herder, Number Five. New York License Plate Baker-Michael-Nancy-Henry-Zero-Six-Zero-Two." While any police car with an onboard computer system could access the vehicle's history, safety demanded that the officers radio in the car. Should tragedy strike, and Jamie and Renzuli be incapacitated, the Nerd Herder would immediately be a marked car, and a vehicle of intense interest to everyone in the NYPD.

"Okay, the car comes back as clean." Renzuli said. "You talk" he ordered, meaning that Jamie would be the one to initiate contact with the driver.

A friendly red light at the intersection they had just gone through broke up the traffic, enabling both policemen to get out of the car at the same time. In unison they donned their hats. Jamie stood where he was for a moment, keeping his gaze at the driver. Renzuli circled back behind the police car, and then behind the curb-parked car to its right. With Renzuli on the sidewalk and Jamie between the shoulder and the temporarily blockaded right hand lane, they both approached the Nerd Herder from either side.

Per procedure, Jamie stuck out his right hand, and firmly touched the trunk of the Nerd Herder. This accomplished two tasks. Firstly it verified that the trunk was indeed closed and secured. If any second person such as a gunman or some sort was waiting in ambush in the trunk, that person was now locked in it. Secondly it placed Jamie's handprint on the trunk. Should the traffic stop end very badly and violently, Jamie's handprint would verify that this car, Nerd Herder Five was most definitely the car that he and Renzuli had stopped.

Now Jamie drew his flashlight, and turned it on as he passed by the rear door, shining the beam down into the back seats. A second beam from Renzuli's flashlight joined his from the other side of the car, searching for anything that shouldn't be there- like open liquor bottles, bags of drugs, high powered assault weapons, escaped convicts in orange jumpsuits, severed human heads, and suchlike. Nothing there except seatbelts, and a bag from the local Wienerlicious.

Closing in on the driver side door, Jamie took note of the woman sending him an appraising glance in the rear view mirror. _This one's going to try to flirt _he could tell, _and forget 'fairly pretty', she's 'really pretty'_, as he positioned himself directly to the side of the Nerd Herder's center doorpost, and behind the driver. The positioning prevented the driver from swiftly drawing a weapon on him without having to spend precious half-seconds turning about in the driver's seat, and bringing such a weapon to bear.

"Good evening, ma'am." Jamie began politely. "I'm Officer Reagan. May I please see your driver's license, vehicle registration and proof of insurance?"

"Good evening officer." The brunette chirped sweetly. "I'm Nerd Herd Supervisor Hannah. Here they are" she said, slipping the documents his way with smile.

Jamie had to crack a smile at her pleasant demeanor, but he didn't let it last long. He examined the documents "Okay, Ms.… Gamble … Um, this is a California driver's license, ma'am."

"Oh, please don't call me 'ma'am', officer. It makes me feel so old and ugly. And yes, I do have an temporary New York." She fished back in her purse for the update card. Out of habit, Renzuli shined his flashlight down on her purse, which not only helped out Hannah, but made it possible for Jamie and Renzuli to monitor her hands.

"I see. Thank you." Jamie said, accepting the fourth document. "Miss Gamble, do you know why we pulled you over this evening?"

Hannah's sweet smile focused right on him, and her eyes shone. "If I get it right on the first try, do I not get the ticket?"

From off to his side Jamie heard Renzuli guffaw. Jamie kept his smile friendly. "I can't make any promises one way or the other" he said politely.

"Aww….. I was thinking it had something to do with the intersection back there" she said as she jerked her head behind her.

"Yes, miss, I'm afraid so. My partner and I saw you try to beat the red light. You came close, but you didn't make it. Now is there any particular reason why you're driving like that this evening?" Protocol demanded that an officer give the driver an opportunity to explain themselves, even though very few excuses really worked for running a red light in Manhattan traffic.

"Sorry officer. I've got a computer program install down by the courthouse. And my stupid GPS device told me to take the Queens Midtown Tunnel, and not the Manhattan or Brooklyn Bridge. And so I'm late, and I'm nowhere near where I need to be."

"I see. So… you charged the red light to save some time."

"Well obviously I didn't know you were there. I would have worn my red lipstick if I had." Hannah smiled again.

"Ok I'm going to be a second. Just wait here for me." Jamie said.

Renzuli and Jamie made their way back to their car, Renzuli once more crossing behind the two cars to get to his driver's side.

"It's a red light, Reagan. The attitude test's not enough." Renzuli said with a note of warning as he sat down, in case Jamie was thinking letting the pretty brunette off the hook with a warning.

"Oh I know it." He handed Renzuli the documents. "Why don't you run her while I write." Jamie said, going for his summons book. Renzuli took the documents, and placed Hannah's driver's license on top.

For some bizarre reason, some motorists would complain, scold, even verbally abuse the cops who pulled them over, and would _then_ have the unbelievable gall to ask for a warning once they had adjusted to their situation. In patrolman's jargon this was called "failing the attitude test", and logically enough did nothing to inspire a policeman to let the motorist off easy. Hannah had of course acted like a sweetie pie and passed the attitude test … but sadly for Hannah and her weekly paycheck, it wasn't going to be enough to save her the ticket.

Like all cops, Jamie and Renzuli had some measure of discretion in handing out summonses, and like all cops they had some unwritten standards about how to apply that discretion. Traffic offenses that were born out of carelessness Jamie and Renzuli could sometimes be lenient on provided the driver passed the attitude test. Traffic offenses that were born out of aggression were usually a different story. Nice lady that she apparently was, Hannah's conscious decision to throw caution to the wind and charge the light could have had disastrous consequences – consequences that he and Renzuli would have had to clean up later, possibly involving ambulances and body bags. It was ticket time for Hannah. True, it was the sort of offense that regular, normal, non-wicked people committed every day … but Renzuli and now Jamie were both pretty hard on red light runners. The first time Jamie had seen a dead child while on the job wasn't because of a vile kidnapper, or a loathsome drug dealer or some other Hollywood version of a horrible, easy-to-hate, no excuses bad guy. It was because a normal somebody had tried to run a red light.

It was kind of a shame, Jamie thought as he wrote. She'd flirted in the way he enjoyed being flirted with, sweet, funny and wittily, and not suggestive or sleazy. She didn't come onto him, and she didn't lose any buttons on her Nerd Herd blouse. But in Jamie and Renzuli's car there were no passes for run red lights.

"No warrants." Renzuli reassured after running Hannah's info through the system. Then he handed the docs to Jamie, who used them to write down Hannah's info onto the summons. "Dollar says she cusses you out."

"You're on." Jamie said, finishing up the summons. "Actually I'll raise you. She doesn't cuss, but another dollar says she gives the 'cute girl no ticket speech.'"

"Oh, no. I'm not making _that_ bet. She'll give that speech to you to you for sure. "

Summons written, the two cops got out of the car again, again approached the Nerd Herder and again took up their previous positions, with Jamie by Hannah, and Renzuli by the passenger side.

Hannah's face fell when she saw the summons. "Aw, officer, I thought you guys didn't give the cute girls tickets."

Jamie grinned. Renzuli had nailed it. Jamie's comeback was well rehearsed and pleasant. "Sorry miss, but that's just all Hollywood. We don't shoot guns out of people's hands, or draw chalk outlines around dead people either." Jamie then went into his equally well rehearsed spiel about the meaning of her summons and her legal options. Hannah wasn't happy, but didn't protest any further.

Finishing up, Jamie politely asked "So do you know where you're going now?"

"New York County Courthouse 80 Centre Street" Hannah groused.

"Oh that's not the Courthouse. That's the DA's office." Jamie provided helpfully. "They're right across the street from each other. Are you sure about the address?"

"I can call to verify once I get there. Can I go now?" Hannah asked.

"Sure. If I were you, I'd cut over to Park Avenue as soon as you can, and go south all the way to Broadway. Your GPS can guide you in from there. It might take a while to get there; we're pretty far up the island.

"Great. Thanks." Hannah said. It was clear that her annoyance was beginning to wear through her patience.

"Okay. Drive carefully now." Jamie politely admonished – but Hannah's driver's window was already rolling up. Jamie and Renzuli stepped back from the Nerd Herder as the chastised Hannah turned the car back on.

Back inside their marked unit, Renzuli beamed slightly. "Nailed it, didn't I?" he asked as he put the car into drive and proceeded south on Lexington.

"Oh yeah. She gave the speech."

"And you gave your Hollywood comeback." Renzuli said with a shake of his head. "You know now that you're almost done probation, and don't have to worry quite so much about pissing people off, you can joke back with the cute girls who give the 'cute girl, no ticket'" speech. "

"What's that?" Jamie wanted to know.

"They say 'I thought you didn't give cute girls tickets'. And then you say. 'I don't. Now here's your ticket, and driver's license and paperwork, and your options'. The looks on their faces are sometimes priceless."

Jamie laughed ever so slightly. "I don't know. Sounds a little mean."

Renzuli insisted. "But funny."

"But mean… and funny." Jamie finally allowed. "Besides, I don't want to think about things like that. Like I said sarge. I'm worried about jinxes."

C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C

**Los Angeles, California**

**Grand Ambassador Hotel & Convention Center**

**Ballroom Two**

DJ Kevin "Tones" Toner was one of the few strangers who had met Sarah and Chuck now-Bartowski as a couple and _didn't_ scratch his head at the pairing of the obvious nerd and the beauty queen. He'd been a DJ for years and had made the party rock for gorgeous people, ugly people, fat people, thin people, old people, married too young people, gay people, May-Decembers, Trekkies, Dr. Who fanatics, Tolkien themed couples, Renaissance Fair themed couples, celebrities who paired with regular people, second, third, fourth and fifth marriages and pretty much any other unlikely pairing one could find in the City of Angels. It'd take a lot to stun him, and "Hot Babe Marrying Sci-Fi Nerd" wasn't even close to weird enough.

With all the professional pride of a surgeon preparing for appendectomy, Kevin clasped the microphone, and spooled up his playlist on his laptop. _Yep. Definite Sci fi nerd. But cool nonetheless_.

"LLllllllllllladies and gentleman, we welcome you to the Grand Ambassador Hotel and Convention Center, and to the Walker-Bartowski wedding!" here, he paused and waited for the applause, catcalls and whistles of approval from his crowd. After five seconds, he continued. "At this time I'd like to direct your attention to the main entrance of the hall, as we announce this evening's bridal court!" At this, Kevin tapped "Play" on the computer, and the reception hall was filled up with the John Williams / London Symphony Orchestra's recording of the _Star Wars Episode IV_ soundtrack, track titled _Throne Room_.

The heavy, bombastic brass echoed over the ballroom, and Kevin continued. "Our first member of the bridal court is our flower girl for this evening and the groom's niece, Miss Clara Woodcomb! Escorted …. And apparently carried … by her grandmother and the groom's mother Mary Bartowski!" Mary came in, carrying a well behaved Clara in her arms, waved to the guests when she reached center stage of the dance floor, and played with Clara's fist in simulated acknowledgment.

"Next up is Miss Zondra Rizzo, escorted by our best man – and officiate – Mr. Morgan Grimes!" Again, this was California, and having a best man who doubled as minister – or one who wasn't paired off with the maid of honor - wasn't weird enough to be so much as blip on Kevin's radar. Morgan was all smiles as he walked arm in arm with Zondra, and tossed a wave to the crowd. Zondra was clearly not happy with being the center of attention for the few seconds she promenaded out to the dance floor. She didn't wave, but she did have a big smile, one which Kevin suspected was fake.

"And next we have Miss Carina Miller, escorted by Colonel John Casey!" …. Carina, on the other hand apparently _loved_ being the center of attention, and waved the entire time she sashayed out. Pausing at the center of the stage, she dramatically kissed the cheek of the stoic colonel with an exaggerated smooch. The colonel stiffened, but maintained his smile which was about as fake as Zondra's had been.

Waiting behind Ellie and Devon, Sarah Bartowski crooked her arm, inviting Chuck to thread his arm through hers. With a smile that lit up the room, Chuck eagerly complied. Sarah was grinning herself. _Oh I'm so glad Chuck didn't let me charm him into eloping. This is going to be so much fun!_ Despite having recently awoken from her poisoning just a matter of several hours ago, Sarah felt a burst of joyous energy. It didn't matter that the entire reception hall was filled with Chuck's family and friends, while she had no family, and almost no friends to contribute. The fact was that almost everyone in the world who cared about her and Chuck was here, and here for them.

Chief among them were her amazing sister-in-law Ellie the woman who had essentially raised Chuck by herself. Sarah wondered if this was how all brides felt -indebted to the grooms mother, or in her case sister, for raising such a wonderful, respectful and caring man, one who's company she was about to enjoy forever. P_robably not _she felt. _Not many women are as lucky as me_.

"And now we have tonight's Maid of Honor Doctor Eleanor Fay Woodcomb, escorted by her husband Doctor Devon Woodcomb!" Ellie and Devon strutted out, Devon grinning ear to ear, and Ellie waving even more enthusiastically then Carina had. Chuck burst out laughing at her, as if he had heard a hilarious joke. Ellie had been wanting Chuck and Sarah to get married waaaaay back in the days when she was just his cover girlfriend, and they had never done anything more than passionately kiss a few times. She was enjoying this wedding almost as much as he and Sarah were. _Uh Oh, Sorority girl Ellie's in the house! Bad news for the bartender, good news for Devon tonight!_

_That_ was a most unusual thought for Chuck to have, as his brain typically set up all kinds of blockades, roadblocks, moats filled with flaming naphtha, minefields, and booby traps to even thinking about Ellie and Devon's sex life … but perhaps now that he was a husband for all of three and half hours with a wife of his own it gave him a deeper, philosophical appreciation for the fact that Ellie and Devon were the happiest couple he knew, and the reasons why included all the appropriate levels of affection and passion. In this limited context, it didn't freak him out at all.

Sarah's grip tightened affectionately on Chuck's arm. The _Star Wars_ soundtrack died down, and the reception hall stilled. Kevin the DJ's voice came over one last time through the silence_. "And now, it is my great honor to present …"_

Chuck's mind flashed back to that morning almost four years ago when the prettiest woman he'd ever met walked into the Buy More and asked him for help with her phone. Despite her inviting, warm smile, she had seemed intimidatingly, unreachably beautiful, so much so that he'd awkwardly dropped the phone when he first laid eyes on her. He hadn't put two and two together that her appearance coincided with his getting the most peculiar e-mail he'd ever gotten.

It had of course, not been a coincidence. She was a spy and quickly became a bodyguard to defend him against criminals, because of that Intersect e-mail. Sarah Walker had been out of his league, he had thought, in far more than just her looks. She had been a protégé success in her career – he had been a stalled mediocrity in his. She had been a seasoned world traveler – he had barely ever left California. Her lifestyle had been exotic, exciting and important; his had been dull, routine and inconsequential.

All who met Sarah Bartowski were-and would continue to be- stunned by her beauty, but all who spent any time with her could see that she was so much more then looks. Despite a spy's cold professionalism, she had a warm heart towards those who stirred her protective instincts, including pretty much everyone in the reception hall. She was easily the bravest woman he'd ever met, quick witted, and every inch as smart as he was – and on some topics far more knowledgeable. She was also the coolest customer he'd ever met, able to deal with everything that came her way, from the unwelcome leers of Lester Patel to the hails of gunfire that seemed to follow her around from time to time.

He had believed her to be so far out of his league that briefly after she settled into her role as bodyguard/ cover girlfriend, he had simply accepted that such a lady could never truly be in his life … until one night in a crisis at the LA docks, she had shown her cards, and aggressively kissed him, not for the first time reminding him that he had the bad habit of underestimating himself far too often.

Like any normal man in such proximity to such a beauty, he'd enjoyed too many fevered dreams about her to easily count. But shortly after that kiss, other kinds dreams had begun to accompany the torrid adolescent kind, and many of them had involved Sarah wearing a white dress similar to what she was wearing now, a reception hall quite like this, and a DJ announcing …

… _for the first time ever Mr. And Mrs. Charles Bartowski!"_

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**New York, New York**

**Manhattan Borough  
New York County District Attorney, 80 Centre Street**

Any person who had the misfortune of falling afoul of Erin Reagan-Boyle at this time would have been a sympathetic candidate for anyone else's pity. Fortunately for the world's populace, only a few security guards were patrolling the DA's office at 8:15 at night. All the other Assistant DAs had gone home, and Erin's paralegals were out too, leaving her alone with the guards in the halls. And Erin was on good terms with them, so they were safe.

Erin's wrath was generally pointed in a socially acceptable direction. She wasn't going to be the DA leading the case against the disgraced Blue Templar cops, of course – her brother had been one of the victims of their crimes- but she could expedite paperwork with the best of them, and she was now in the middle of drafting memos on sentencing recommendations for the surviving broken cops.

Like rats fleeing a sinking ship, the ex-Templars quickly abandoned any pretense of loyalty and camaraderie, and began turning each other in the hopes of getting some consideration during sentencing time. Most DAs were gloating at this, but Erin was furiously trying to set things up so that only the most minimal of concessions were granted to these men, even the ones that pled "guilty".

Right now she was in the midst of drafting an argument moving that all incarcerations be at Clinton State Facility. That was its official name anyway. Colloquially it was known for the town that it was located in, Dannemora. For a criminal convicted in New York, there were typically three maximum security prisons available for their sentencing – Sing Sing, Attica and Clinton/Dannemora.

It wasn't that life at any one prison was any more or less pleasant then the others, all three were equally putrid and intimidating, and any of the three were tantamount to extreme punishment. For Erin, the deciding factor was location. Sing Sing Prison, where most of locally convicted criminals were sent- was only 30 miles up the Hudson River from New York. Indeed, the phrase "send them up the river" generated from Sing Sing's location in relation to New York.

Attica was further away … almost all the way on the other end of the Empire State, in fact. It was only just east of Buffalo, and was a six hour drive.

Clinton/Dannemora was also six hours away by car – But unlike Attica, Dannemora was in the most remote and godforsaken corner of the State of New York. It was 320 miles north of New York City, tucked into that little noticed, little visited, and little cared for spot in the state that was right next to an equally easy-to-overlook spot of Vermont. The town of Dannemora was the biggest thing around, and the nearest city was Montreal, 70 miles away. Winters were brutally cold, and exhaustingly long, and it was going to be a tedious chore for any family members to make the trip up to visit them. Dannemora was known as New York's Siberia, and it came by its nickname the old-fashioned way … it earned it.

Erin wanted to see to it that every legal iota of pain, suffering and inconvenience that could possibly be brought to bear on these awful men was brought. In practical terms, New York had no death penalty. And the law tended to frown on the idea of her grabbing Jamie's Glock, Danny's Smith & Wesson, or her father's Colt Fitz Special and gunning the men down herself. And so she was left with drafting motions with the goal in mind of seeing the men who had stolen her brother away from her and her family were punished as severely and as mercilessly as possible. As far as Erin was concerned, they were not simply to be incarcerated, but exiled. Sent as far away from family friends and civilized people as possible, and deposited as close as New York could achieve to the Ends of the Earth.

" … as was said at the execution of the Lincoln conspirators-themselves murderous traitors 'we wish to know their names no longer'". Erin highlighted the last sentence on her dissertation, and wondered if it were on the wrong side of "overdramatic". She decided to keep it, and see if it survived a review tomorrow, when she was less tired. She already knew that at these particular defendants, she was never going to be less angry.

Happily for their own sakes, the defendants were securely and safely in Riker's Island awaiting trial. That kept them safe from anyone named Reagan tonight. The only other victim for her fury was inanimate, her laptop computer - which had started acting up an hour ago and was now threatening to freeze up on her, not knowing that Erin was in an mood in which it was unsafe to displease her further.

Adding to Erin's ire was the fact that because of Mayor Russo's brilliant cost-cutting initiatives, IT support for City Services – including the DA's office- had been slashed. Few workers, fewer shifts. That meant a backlog of tech support calls, and late night emergencies like this one were outsourced to one of 3 or four private companies. TechnoTown was one, GizmoGarage was another, she thought there was a third she couldn't remember, and the Buy More Nerd Herd was the last one, and the most respectable one … … … in as much as non-city employee techno weenies could be considered 'respectable'. This one was already running late.

City employees or not, Erin hated having IT nerds in her office for any reason. The typically socially awkward males made usually clumsy small talk with her paralegals, two of whom she had to admit, were exceptionally attractive. But that meant the IT service wasn't getting done, and it also meant that her paralegals weren't doing their jobs.

Of course, it wasn't like her paralegals got a lot of work done when her brother Jamie came to visit, resplendent in his NYPD uniform. So perhaps justice insisted that she take the good with the bad in terms of productivity visits.

Her phone rang. Peter, the night shift security head was on the line. "Miss Reagan? Peter here. A Buy More Nerd Herder is here for a tech support call?"

_Finally_! "Yes, Peter that's for me. Let him up."

"Okay, I'll send her right up."

Erin woke up the word processer on her lap top, the better to demonstrate to the professional egghead that her word processer had been acting agonizingly slow.

About two minutes later, the Nerd Herder showed up, with a satchel slung across her shoulder. "Hi there! Nerd Herd. I'm Hannah. Trouble with your computer?"

Erin's icy, accusing stare had silenced many a vocal opponent, sent many a paralegal scurrying for a place to hide, and had warned her three brothers to take caution when they spoke. Now the formidable brown eyes were targeted on Hannah. She was supposed to have been here twenty minutes ago. "Yesssss." She said frostily. "Yes I am"

Coming out from under her satchel, Hannah tried to make peace. "I'm sorry. I should have been here a while ago. My GPS sent me to the wrong part of the island, and then this jerk of a cop was mean to me when I tried to make up some lost … _oh, my God it's your boyfriend_!" Hannah gaped involuntarily and incredulously.

Erin looked at her in confusion. Her chronic lack of a boyfriend was a situation that Linda and sometimes Nicky had been working hard to rectify, with no success. She wondered where Hannah could have gotten the notion… until she followed her gaze to the shelves behind her desk. On the top of that piece of furniture, was her favorite picture of herself and Jamie, right after his graduation ceremony at Madison Square Garden, just about a year ago.

"Oh," Erin laughed, grateful the excuse to challenge her mood. "Actually," she said, grabbing the picture "Officer Handsome here is my baby brother, not my boyfriend."

"Oh. Well blame him." Hannah grinned. "He's the reason why I'm late."

"What did you do?"

"Well …. I _may_ have come through the intersection a few teeny tiny seconds after the light turned red."

"Ahh!" Erin smiled broadly. "Yeah Tony and Jamie can be a little rough on people who run red lights."

"And I was as nice as could be too. He still gave me a ticket."

"Yeah. Sometimes flirting with the cop doesn't work. Trust me I know. The NYPD doesn't always like the way I drive either."

"Ok, good. So I'm not alone." Hannah grinned. "So. What seems to be the problem?" she asked, gesturing to the laptop computer behind the desk.

Erin surrendered her chair and started explaining as best as she could. "I was using the word processor, with just a few trips online to check out the state prison system, and all of a sudden it starts acting all slow on me."

"Was it really all of a sudden, like right before you called, or did it slowly build up over time?" Hannah asked.

Erin pursed her lips in thought. "You know, it could have built up over time and I've only just started noticing it."

"Okay." Hannah began. "Let's start with the easy stuff. When's the last time you de fragged the computer?"

Erin's mute and confused look told her pretty much everything she needed to know. With a patient grin she said, "Okay. That's probably what it is. This is a Roark Instruments Mark five, so it's a few years old. It's still a piece of cake to defrag."

Hannah rattled a few keys on the keyboard. "Oh yeah. You're maxed out and need to defrag. The good news is that it should be easy and my little visit tonight shouldn't cost you too much. Bad news is you need to let the computer rest for a little bit."

Erin sighed. "how long?"

"Most models take about two or three hours, but Roarks are really clever about how they defrag a hard drive. They can do it in about 30 – 45 minutes."

Hannah rattled some more keys. Erin's computer chirped to life, and a male voice came from the machine._ "__**Hello. It looks like you want to defrag. This might be a good time to go grab a sandwich**__."_

Both women chuckled at the human sounding computer. "I've never had one of these chat me up before." Erin smiled.

"Yeah, that's the late great Ted Roark's voice. Industry rumor was that he was a bit of an egomaniac. He put his voice into every machine." Hannah continued to execute commands.

_ "__**Okay. Defragging now. Should be done in thirty four minutes. Can you dig it?**__" _The Roark voice said.

"I got a nickel that says that solves your slowness problem. You just need to sort out the hard drive to find room on it."

"Thanks, I'm at a bit of a loss when it comes to fixing up computers. In the mood for some coffee?"

"Only if you have decaf." Hannah said. "I'm on call, which means I'm going home after this."

"Oh, it's one of those Kuerig things. It makes it cup by cup." An ironic glance back at Hannah. "Your mean cop actually treated me for my birthday."

A few minutes later, coffee was available for both brunettes. Since watching a computer defrag was as exciting as watching bread go stale, Hannah spoke up first. "Hey, I'm sorry I bad mouthed your brother. I wasn't happy that he gave me the ticket, but he was pretty nice considering."

Erin smiled. "Yeah, that's Jamie. Always a sweetie. In fact if you came in the middle of the day, you'd probably overhear my paralegals cooing about whether or not he'd show up to take me to lunch. Christy would be looking for an excuse to take along."

Hannah wrinkled her nose "Ugh. Natural born player?"

Erin shook her head. She'd not let anyone assume that about her brother, but she couldn't blame this girl for jumping to that conclusion. Most of the handsome police and firemen she knew had little trouble finding dates, often several. But since Sydney, Jamie hadn't met anyone serious enough to bring to the Sunday dinner table. "Oh, no. Not at all. In fact…" Erin reached behind her to grasp the framed photo that Hannah had noticed earlier. "…this time last year, he was engaged." Erin withdrew the photo from the frame of the picture, and unfolded it. Hannah could now see that the photo was now of Jamie with Erin on his left side, and another woman on his right. "That's Sydney. She couldn't really make the adjustment. Jamie was supposed to be a lawyer like Sydney, and then he sort of had a change of heart and joined the force. Sydney took it well… but not well enough."

Hannah clicked her tongue in sympathy. "Poor girl."

"Speaking of players," Erin decided to change the topic. "You're the first female Nerd Herder I've met. If I were you I'd be afraid to set foot behind that desk without pepper spray, considering some of the IT guys we have and the one's I've seen from Buy More."

Hannah nodded severely, but with a grin. "Oh there's some characters alright. But I'm their supervisor, so I keep them whipped into line. There's two here called Miguel and Steven, they remind me of two clowns I used to work with out in California named Jeff and Lester. They weren't players, but wannabe players. Thank God I got out of that place."

"Wow. The place was so bad you ran all the way across the country?" Erin asked, as she enjoyed her cup.

"Well no. I quit the Buy More in Burbank because I made the mistake of getting involved with worst kind of player there is. You know the type. They say all the right things, act all sweet and nice, and then the week after you take things to the next level, it's boom! 'I really can't handle anything serious right now'." Hannah grimaced. "I'm sorry. That was probably too much information."

"It's okay. This" Erin gestured around, "Is an ADA's office. These walls have heard everything under the sun, moon and stars." Erin grinned a little. She liked this Hannah woman, if for no other reason they could bond over working late into the night when most sane people were home watching TV. Erin was also perpetually shy on girlfriends. Linda was the biggest one, naturally, but with her, Erin's dating life was a sort of one-sided topic … since Linda couldn't reciprocate really, as her dating life was Danny. It was a little fun to gripe about men to someone else. She felt the need to correct Hannah. "That's not the worst type of player, hon. The worst type is the one you marry, _then_ he figures out he doesn't want anything serious. Guilty." She raised her hand. "Count your blessings."

Hannah nodded sympathetically. "Okay fair enough. Good point. Sorry you married a rat. I suppose I dodged a bullet." She sighed. "It was just a little frustrating. I mean you've got years of experience getting hit on you think you've developed a pretty good radar to figure out which ones were the nice guys and which ones were the rats, and then one does a whole 180 on you. It's not so much that you've been with a scumbag that's the problem, it's the fact that you _used_ to think you were an ok judge of people, and now you feel like a high school girl who got played. It sucked."

"Yeah I guess so... But move all-the-way-across-the country sucked?" Erin asked.

Hannah smiled. "No he wasn't that bad. He was "Leave-the-Nerd-Herd-And-The-Buy-More-So-That-I'd-Never-See-Him-Again-bad. I got an IT job out here working for Dunlap Cisco… "At this Erin grimaced, as she knew exactly what happened next. "… and they went belly up about two months later. I really can't catch a break in the job market." Hannah shook her head. "So I waved my credentials at the local Buy More, and now I'm here."

"Well welcome. But if you've left California and escaped to New York in the hopes of escaping sleazy men …"

"What, you mean New York's not a safe haven?" Hannah laughed.

Erin joined in heartily. "If it were, it'd not only halve my workload, but both of my brothers too. The other one's also a cop. About half of Jamie's calls are domestic disturbances, and usually he and Tony get there before things get really bad. The other brother's a homicide investigator. He gets there _after_ things get bad." She shook her head. "Like I said, there are those a lot worse off than us."

Hannah laughed once more. "Good to know. Anytime I'm down in the dumps, I can always compare myself to dead people. You're right. That _is_ some perspective!"

"_**Okay! We're defragged now! Have a great day!"**_ chirped the Roark voice.


End file.
